Can You Keep A Secret?
by kirarose
Summary: When a certain blonde haired boy ends up in the hospital wing, why is Granger the only one visiting him? And what put him there in the first place? Hold on to your hats, 'cause we're in for a real adventure now... HG/DM. Somewhat compliant w/ HBP.
1. Chapter 1

A/N

Hey guys. This is my first fanfic ever, but I've been reading them since I was about 13, and writing stories even before that. Critiques are more than welcome. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: none of my stories have been half as fantastic as Miss J.K.R.'s masterpiece. It's all hers.

Chapter one

Hermione Granger silently cursed at herself as she looked in the mirror. She tried to smooth down the front of the white dress that she wore, but it didn't help. With white tights and white rubber-soled shoes to match, she was quite the sight. After getting over the shock of the dress, she noticed that she was slouching and quickly realigned her spine; she looked bad enough as it was and slouching only made it worse. Well, the hat didn't help much, either.

She had managed to pull her hair back into a neat bun, but the hat took all of the attention away from her hair. That damn hat that Madame Pomfrey had insisted that she wear, with its large red plus sign that matched the symbol on the upper right corner of her dress. Signing up to help in the infirmary had to be one of the stupidest things that Hermione had ever done.

It was the beginning of December - the infirmary's busiest time - and Madame Pomfrey needed all of the help that she could get. Though there were spells to eliminate the ice on the sidewalks and in the courtyards, all of the students were so eager to be on break and away from Hogwarts that they seemed to have lost their minds a bit. Countless students had come in with twisted joints, broken bones, bruised bodies, and pounding headaches from mischievous and unintelligent romps in the snow. Poor Madame Promfrey was getting older and was visibly struggling, so Hermione had offered to help out.

This was not entirely true. Yes, Hermione had noticed Madame Pomfrey's obvious exhaustion of late, but her offer to help out had derived from other motives. These motives were what she was now - still - silently cursing as she smoothed down the dress once more. There was nothing to be done about it, though. The commitment had been made.

She turned away from her mirror and strode purposefully out of her dormitory and down to the common room. She walked through as quickly and quietly as possible, waving politely at a few fellow students who greeted her. There was no time for questions; she was going to be late.

It was a fair walk to the infirmary and Hermione considered turning back several times. It wasn't that the idea of taking care of students with broken arms - or students who might, possibly, vomit or bleed on her - was a frightening idea. She fully intended on exploring her interests in healing after Hogwarts, so this was just a jumpstart on her possible future. It was her motive for being there that frightened her. She couldn't stand not knowing, though. She had to see if her suspicions were correct.

"Miss Granger," Madame Promfrey said, opening the door which Hermione had been standing outside of. The old witch's voice sounded exhausted, but relieved. "You're just on time. Would you like to start with a report?"

Hermione nodded, shoving past her fearful thoughts and pulling something happier to the front of her mind so that she could smile convincingly. Madame Pomfrey walked around the room, stopping at each occupied bed and muttering a quiet report of the student's status. When they reached the last bed, Hermione held her breath. His name had not come up yet, so this had to be him.

"Our last patient is the most delicate," Madame Pomfrey whispered. "As most everyone saw, he was brought here during lunch this afternoon. He's recovering nicely, but very slowly. He hasn't given me any trouble as of yet. He occasionally wakes up, though, and is a little bit confused about where he is and what has happened. If anything gets too out of control, do not hesitate to wake me up. I have complete faith in your abilities, though, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, Madame," Hermione smiled briefly.

"My quarters are just through this far door," Madame Pomfrey continued. "You are free to use my quills or parchment at your leisure. I am not a heavy sleeper, so if the only option is to call my name, that will most likely suffice. Goodnight, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded politely and watched the short, old witch walk delicately to the other end of the room and disappear behind a door. Madame Pomfrey's desk was small and organized, so it was easy to spot the files lined up against one of the shelves. Hermione considered thumbing through some other charts, so as not to look too eager, but she could not contain herself any longer.

His chart was thick - thicker than all of the others - which only succeeded in strengthening Hermione's curiosity. She laid it down flat on the desk, running her palm along the top of it and then lightly tracing the letters of his name before suddenly jerking her hands back.

This was insane, wasn't it? Volunteering to help people for misguided reasons, lying to her friends about her misguided reasons, and now peeking at another student's personal information? She put her face into her hands and sighed. This had been such a silly idea. What was the point, anyway? Oh, right. It was his damn eyes that had made her do it.

She had been in potions class with him when he was quietly pulled out because, as the person had said softly to him, his father was there to see him. His face had remained completely composed and emotionless the entire time. Except for one fatal slip that, honestly, she wasn't even sure she had actually witnessed. When he had walked by her desk, she would swear up and down that he turned his head ever so slightly and locked his eyes onto hers. She would swear it because she had felt the emotion in that glance. She had shivered because of the unbridled terror that was present in his eyes for that one moment.

His damn eyes had haunted her all through lunch and dinner that day when he did not show up. She saw his face in her dreams and woke up covered in a cold, disgusting sweat four separate times that night. When he was absent from breakfast the following morning - this morning - and was also not present in potions class, Hermione began to panic.

She reached out slowly and traced the letters of his name once more. Draco Malfoy: hater of all muggleborns and mudbloods, son of a deatheater, Dark Lord lover, and self-appointed enemy of the Golden Trio. This had to be some kind of odd obsession that she would snap out of. It was not odd to be worried about him, though. She was Hermione Granger, after all. Even though he was one of the foulest students at Hogwarts, he was not nearly as despicable as his father. Yet. And since she was Hermione Granger, she was obligated to react and respond when someone who was not entirely as loathsome as Lucius Malfoy was clearly in danger and hurting.

No matter how evil he was, she had to believe that there was still some shred of decency left in the boy. He deserved a chance to be better, she supposed. He deserved some kind of fighting chance. And if was she had witnessed yesterday morning was actually a hint of vulnerability and fear, then he was even less far gone than she had assumed him to be.

She stood up abruptly and put the file back. Though technically he was one of her patients for the night, his medical history was not something that she could go snooping through without feeling thoroughly guilty about it later.

She made her way over to his bed slowly, stepping quietly and pausing at his curtain. She had caught a glimpse of him in the hallway after lunch when another Slytherin was helping him to the infirmary. He had clearly had better days. In that hallway again, though, he had caught her eyes for one single moment in time, seemingly pleading with her.

She shook herself out of the trance that she was in and realized that she should probably be bringing something to him, so as not to look ridiculous. She decided on water and retrieved a cup full of it before returning to his curtain. Her hand reached out partially on its own accord and the curtain was pushed back, revealing a sleeping Malfoy.

He looked so peaceful and calm, but also very battered. He was curled up onto one side, grasping a pillow to his chest. His light hair fell over his forehead in a carefree manner as he snored lightly, mouth partially opened. It was the lacerations that bothered her most. They were all up and down his arms, and there were even a few on his pale face. One cut went diagonally from a spot near his ear to the corner of his nose on the right side of his face. Another started at his hairline and ended just below his eyebrow. They were not open wounds, but they looked very freshly healed. She unconsciously reached up and ran her finger along her own cheek and wincing as she imagined the pain.

Then, before she knew exactly what she was doing, she sat the water down on the small table by his bed and sat down cautiously on the edge of the mattress. As soon as she was seated she started to panic. Sitting on Malfoy's hospital bed? Really? What was this assumed-to-be-a-murderer doing to her?

He stirred suddenly, curling his knees up closer to his chest and bumping them against her lower back. She sucked in a deep breath and held back a yelp. The last thing that she wanted was for Malfoy to be awake while she was losing her mind and sitting on a bed next to him. It seemed, though, that he had noticed her presence anyway. She moved to get up as his eyelids slowly drifted upwards, but was stopped by his hand on her wrist.

"Granger?" he asked. It was at that moment that Hermione really began to panic.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N

Well, here's chapter two. It's a little bit longer and hopefully just as interesting. I decided to start writing this a few nights ago when I was bored, and I've got another two chapters finished already, so updates should occur fairly frequently. But I do have finals this next week, so I won't make any promises that I can't keep. Deal? Deal. I'm making a good attempt at trying to make this realistic in relation to the books, so let me know if you feel that anyone - especially Draco - seems ridiculously out of character.

And, just for reference, I set this at an M rating for later chapters, and possible strong language use (I don't curse much personally, so I feel that I have a bit of a hard time incorporating strong language into stories, but I know that sometimes it can enhance the story line).

Disclaimer: It ain't mine.

Chapter Two

"I'm clearly still dreaming," Draco mumbled sleepily, "because this has to be a dream."

Hermione was holding her breath, caught awkwardly between sitting and standing, not daring to move at all. His grip on her wrist was tight, but not painful; he held her just enough to keep her there, but not enough to further fuel her fright. Not that she could be all that much more frightened than she was at that moment. Being held in place by the son of a deatheater was definitely not turning out to be a calming experience. She noted that his fingers and thumbs wrapped entirely around her wrist, and even overlapped a bit. She felt incredibly insignificant for a moment.

"I've never imagined you as a nurse before, though," the son of a deatheater commented, blinking a few times and licking his chapped lips. Her frantic brain tried to process what that meant. "So what's the prognosis, Nurse Granger? Can I be treated?"

"Umm," Hermione managed to get out. No other words would form in her mouth, though, so they were both silent for a few awkwardly long moments. She tried to avoid looking at his very naked chest as it rose and fell peacefully.

"Well, get on with it," Draco ordered. There was an air of curiosity and smugness in his mannerisms instead of the usual cocky, angry attitudes that he usually put forward.

"I brought you some water," she offered, motioning to the glass with her free hand.

"We can start there, I guess," he attempted to shrug but ended up wincing in pain. "This hurts an awful lot for being a dream."

"Malfoy it's not-" she started to say, but he shook his head.

"It's Draco," he corrected her. "You always call me Draco."

It was at this point that Hermione finally realized that Draco clearly thought that he was having some kind of - she shuddered - sexual fantasy about her. And that he had apparently had a dream like this before, only she wasn't a nurse in the other one. She did not want to think about what he had dressed her up as in the other dream.

"Draco," she said, ignoring how odd it felt to say his first name, "this is not a dream. You're in the infirmary and I am helping Madame Pomfrey take care of you. She's asleep right now."

"Then this is definitely a dream," he insisted. "It's all so perfect." His words were still mumbled and slurred, but not as much as they had been before. "You're all dressed up in some little nurse's uniform, taking care of me for the night. Madame Pomfrey's already asleep in the other room. It's dangerous and exciting. You should undo a few buttons."

Hermione gasped as he let go of her wrist and reached towards her dress to unbutton it himself.

"Draco," she scolded, as quietly as she could while still sounding menacing. "Er, Malfoy. This is not a dream. This is real life."

"Prove it," he countered, smirking at her halfheartedly.

"I would pinch you, but I'm afraid to hurt you," she told him. "I don't know how else to prove it."

"Tell me something that only the real Hermione would know," he whispered. He moved his hand back down to her wrist, but simply laid his hand on top of hers instead of grabbing her again. "Tell me why the real Hermione would be here. Madame Pomfrey never has an assistant." His fingers were tracing little circles on the back of her hand.

"I saw you yesterday," she blurted out. His expression flickered for a moment, but he continued to slowly work his hand up the length of her arm. "When you were pulled out of potions class," she clarified, gulping as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "I watched you leave and I thought I saw you look at me as you were going out of the door. I saw you earlier today, too. You definitely looked at me that time."

His hand stopped moving and his cocky, playful expression faded a little bit as reality started to sink in.

"I don't know what made me do it," she admitted. It was basically the truth. "I think it was just the way that you looked at me. I had to be sure that you were OK. So I convinced Madame Pomfrey that she could use a few solid nights of sleep this week, and that I could use the training. And here I am."

"Here you are, indeed," he muttered, any hint of playfulness was gone now. "Come to gloat at me, Granger? You might as well kick me around a bit as well, seeing as how I'm already down. I'm sure you've been waiting for another chance to try out your right hook on me." He clenched his jaw and tilted his chin upwards, daring her.

"That's not why I'm here," she whispered. She hadn't even thought about what would happen when he actually woke up. Not that she had been trying to wake him up. She should have planned for this, though. Of course he thought that she was here to add to his already terrible day. Why else would one of the Golden Trio come to see Draco bloody Malfoy in the infirmary? She didn't even fully understand why she had felt the need to come and see him, so how could she explain it to him?

"I'd like to just get this over with," he said. His voice was as strong as it could be, but his eyes betrayed him. He looked tired and disappointed.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked. "I do have water for you and I can find a potion for pain or maybe a sleeping draught if you want it."

"I don't need anything from you," he hissed. As soon as the words were out, though, he tensed up and shut his eyes firmly, clutching at the pillow as he grunted quietly.

"Let me get something for you," she insisted. She reached out to put a comforting hand on his arm, but the scabbed up lacerations made her think better of that. Instead she settled for placing her very small, very shaky hand on his own white-knuckled and calloused hand. "No one deserves to hurt this badly."

"Oh, I deserve it alright," he growled, opening his eyes wide and glaring at her. "I'm nothing but a no good deatheater, remember? I kill mudbloods like you for fun, Granger."

"I don't care," she answered, honestly. It surprised her to find that, in the moment, she honestly didn't. It was nearly unbearable to see him look so vulnerable. "No matter what you did, I'm sure that you didn't deserve to be hurt this badly and you most certainly do not deserve to continue feeling any of the pain. I can get you anything you want, Draco."

He continued glaring at her, not blinking, even as his body convulsed in pain several more times.

"How do I know you won't be poising in it?" he managed to growl out.

"If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead," she pointed out.

"Fine," he said. "Something for the pain would be delightful, Mudblood."

She didn't even wince at the name. She knew he was just angry and upset because of the position that he was in. Although, even if he had truly meant it from the bottom of his halfway frozen heart, she wouldn't have cared. She had accepted the kind of person that he was long before she set foot in this infirmary. She had no control over what he thought about her and what he said about her, but she did have complete control over how she reacted to him. So she reacted by nodding once and leaving his side briefly.

Madame Pomfrey's potion cabinet was neatly organized, so finding the potion was not a difficult task. It was at this point that Hermione did allow herself to glance into his folder, but only to see when he had last been treated. It would do no good to destroy any trust he had put in her by accidentally giving him an overdose of pain potion. She grabbed something to help him sleep, as well, just in case he decided that he wanted it.

She didn't feel the need to hesitate when she reached his curtain this time. She carefully sat the two potions on his bedside table. He watched her carefully as she removed the top of the pain potion and turned towards him. She showed him the label, to prove that she wasn't deceiving him, and handed him the bottle. He tried to reach out for it, but pulled his arm back quickly and grimaced.

"Here," she said, sitting down again and cautiously sliding her fingers underneath his, "squeeze my fingers if I go too quickly."

He looked anxious as she slowly put the bottle to his lips and tilted it slightly. His fingers tensed, but he never squeezed her hand as she let the contents of the bottle drain into his mouth.

"Water?" she asked, noticing his disgusted expression as he finished. He nodded and they repeated the same procedure with the water. He never took his eyes off of her; she could feel him staring at her face the entire time. As soon as he was finished she sat the glass down and stood up. "I brought some sleeping potion, too," she offered.

"Not yet," he said. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Madame Pomfrey said that you've only been awake a few short times since lunch. It's a little after eleven at night right now."

"How bad was the damage?"

"She didn't really say," Hermione admitted, "but she did say that you're healing well."

"When will I be leaving?"

"I don't know."

"When will you be leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"And why are you here, again?"

"Because your eyes told me that you needed me," she answered honestly.

"Has any one else seen me?"

"Just earlier," she assured him, "when you came into the school. There are no names on your visitor's sheet."

"Good." He closed his eyes for a moment and his breathing evened out. She stood beside his bed silently for what felt like at least fifteen minutes, listening to him breathe. His face slowly relaxed, and he didn't look nearly as tense. She picked up both of the potions and turned to leave.

"Granger?" he asked, quietly.

"I'm here," she whispered back, turning around.

"I don't think I'll be needing that sleeping potion."

"OK," she smiled to herself. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

He mumbled something back that sounded somewhat like "goodnight Mudblood." She surprised herself by actually smiling a little bit. He looked so peaceful when he was tired that even if she hadn't been choosing to ignore his awful nicknames for her, she couldn't have been mad about it.

As she settled back into Madame Pomfrey's chair, she felt relaxed again for the first time since he had left the classroom yesterday morning. The relief was astonishing; she hadn't realized how completely stressed out she had been. Now that she was sure that the little blonde menace was sleeping safely in his hospital bed - and much further from dying than she had imagined he might have been - she was entirely at ease.

And entirely bored. She pulled a book from Madame Pomfrey's shelf and started reading because if she was going to have to spend seven more hours here, she was going to spend it doing one of her favorite activities.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N

Well, here I am, updating this story again. I should probably hold onto these chapters a little bit longer so that when I get busy, I will have some in stock to share with you. But it's so difficult to keep them hidden when I want feedback on them so badly, so here you are!

Again, if you feel that Draco is too terribly out of character, let me know. I dislike reading fics where he suddenly goes from being… himself to someone more like Harry or Ron. He's kind of a badass bad boy, and that's why he's so sexy. So if I'm ruining his sex appeal for you, I would most certainly like to be made aware of it ;)

Oh, and to answer your question CGinny, I haven't spelled out the specifics of why Draco is there because I didn't feel that it was entirely necessary. Hermione knew that his father pulled him out of classes, so she's just assuming that it's something to do with his family or Voldy, but she doesn't want to push the issue by asking him about it. It's obviously going to be something that he's a little wary of talking about. It will be more thoroughly explained later, though. Don't worry : )

Disclaimer: Psh. I wish it was mine.

Chapter Three

By the time seven a.m. arrived the next morning, Hermione was exhausted. She had eventually laid down on one of the empty beds and drifted into a light sleep, but was nervous about the possibility of not hearing one of the students wake up. When Hermione had questioned Madame Pomfrey about assisting her, Madame Pomfrey had gladly obliged to Hermione keeping watch over the infirmary for an eight hour shift from eleven p.m. until seven a.m. She had explained - after seeing Hermione's faltering smile - that sleeping was certainly allowed. There was a coin that was charmed to vibrate and make a little bit of noise whenever one of the patients woke up. Hermione had held on to it tightly all night, checking to be sure that she still had it every time that she woke up.

Madame Pomfrey had emerged from her room looking rejuvenated and fully prepared to take on an entire day of nosebleeds and fevers. Hermione gave a sleepy report - which only took a few moments, since everyone but Draco had slept through the night - and waved goodbye before walking slowly back to her dormitory and passing out on her bed for a two hour nap.

She groaned when her alarm went off. Her head was pounding and she felt like she had a hangover. Or what she assumed a hangover would feel like, anyway. Hermione had never been drunk. Hermione, if she was being honest, had never really done anything. She had kissed Krum on a few occasions, but only because the way that he consistently mispronounced her name was overwhelmingly endearing. And also because of his fantastic biceps. And, yes, she had developed some sort of a crush on her redheaded best friend, but that would never go anywhere and she knew it. It would be awkward if the Golden Trio turned into Harry-and-his-dating-best-friends.

None of the gossiping Gryfindors quite believed her when she said that, yes, she was still a virgin and that, no, she did not want a boyfriend and that, no, she did not like anyone other than Ronald Weasley. Not that she cared what they thought of her, but it was a little small minded of them to assume that every girl on the face of the planet wanted to sleaze herself off to countless boys. Some girls actually cared about grades and reading and studying and… education.

She rolled slowly out of her bed, and stood up as carefully as she could, rolling her shoulders and holding her head in between her palms. It continued its pounding all through her ten minute shower. It continued pounding as she carefully brushed her hair into a ponytail, and it was still pounding when she shuffled down the stairs and into potions class: her first of five classes that day. Dear Merlin she hated Thursdays at Hogwarts. Damn Draco Malfoy and his ridiculously sad eyes to hell for making her feel bad for him and for making her do something stupid like sign up to help Madame Pomfrey in the infirmary for the next two nights and not get any sleep. Damn him, damn him, damn him.

She damned him all through potions, damned him through lunch, and damned him through the rest of her classes. She damned him even more at ten thirty that night when she stuffed her mountains of homework into a bag and changed into that godforsaken nurse's outfit. She shuffled her feet the entire way to the infirmary, not caring about being late, and damning his eyes some more - just for good measure. When she arrived at the door, she stood there as she had the previous night.

Why had she volunteered herself for three nights? Madame Pomfrey had looked completely recovered this morning. And it wasn't like Hermione had actually been volunteering for that reason, anyway. All she had needed was one tiny peek at the blond haired demon to assure her conscience that, yes, he was still alive and kicking and, no, she did not need to have multiple, sweat inducing nightmares worrying about him ever again.

She sighed and opened the door. Madame Pomfrey was seated at her desk, looking as tired as ever. The old witch informed Hermione that there was only one patient left tonight - she had worked very hard today to discharge all of the students so that they could all return to classes tomorrow - and that he was perfectly stable, though grouchier than he had been yesterday.

"I gave him a sleeping draught about… eight hours ago," Madame Pomfrey said. She was walking towards her bedroom already, taking her hat off. "His pain was getting worse this afternoon and he was as grouchy as a pregnant hippogriff, so I put us both out of our misery for a few hours. There's another bottle on the shelves if he wakes up again and you happen to need it."

"Thank you," Hermione flashed a smile.

"See you in the morning, Miss Granger," Madame Pomfrey said, disappearing behind her door.

Hermione dropped her bag on the floor beside the desk, sat down, and pulled out the necessary books and parchments for her first assignment. She soon found that studying in the infirmary was not nearly as productive as studying in the common room. Every couple of minutes she found herself glancing over at his curtain and wondering how he was. It took two entire hours to finish the first half of her homework - it should have taken thirty minutes at most. By two a.m. Hermione slammed her book shut more loudly than she had intended to and sauntered over to the bed closest to his to lie down.

She lay on her back with her knees pulled up slightly on the right side, staring at the ceiling and gripping the coin. She was pretty sure that Draco would make himself known if he was awake and needed something, but she held it tightly regardless, trying to quiet her mind so that she could sleep.

At three, the coin began to vibrate and she checked the time with her wand. She had been staring at the ceiling for an entire hour. She scolded herself internally as she rolled off of the bed and opened his curtain.

"Malfoy?" she asked, timidly. She stayed by the curtain, but pulled it shut.

"Granger? Or are you Hermione this time?" he asked. His voice was low and quiet. All of his lacerations had healed magnificently throughout the day; they were no longer scabbed over and they looked no worse than two-week-old scars now. He peered at her curiously, eyes completely open. He was laying on his side again.

"Both, I suppose," she answered. "Can I get you anything?"

"You can't be both," he insisted, sleepily. "One of them is a fan of Scar Head and one of them is actually slightly decent. There are no decent people who are fans of that idiot."

"I wouldn't consider myself a fan," she countered. "That implies that I'm some mindless follower or something. I'm far from mindless, and I don't follow around people for no reason. I've got plenty of my own life to live without tangling myself up that deeply in someone else's, thank you."

"Ah, it is Granger," he smirked, obviously pleased with himself for working her up a bit. "Granger, it's bloody hot in this infirmary."

"Perhaps you have a temperature," she mused. He shivered a moment later, further fueling her suspicions. She took a few steps towards him and pulled out her wand to mutter a spell.

"I don't think so," he said, turning onto his back. "You'd better not go pointing that wand at me."

"I'm just going to see if you-"

"No," he shook his head. "I don't trust you farther than I could throw you. And, yeah, even though I'm strong and you can't weigh much at all, I don't think that I could throw you very far. Put the bloody wand down."

She wasn't sure if she should laugh at his first two sentences, or back away in fear because of the last sentence. What a confusing mess this boy was. If she was capable of truly hating someone, she would most certainly hate Malfoy. But it bothered her to see him in pain. He was actually clever and funny at times, but his comedy was apparently of the dark sort and could very easily be an entirely evil sort of thing.

"How would you suggest I figure this out, then?" she questioned.

"Do I feel warm?" he asked, as if it was obvious.

"Do you actually want me to touch you?" she shot back, raising her eyebrow at him.

He closed his mouth, aiming another one of his deeply frightening and intense glares at her.

"I wouldn't want to dirty up your precious skin," she prodded.

"It's too late for that," he scoffed.

"What, because I touched you last night, too?" she asked, trying to hold back her fury. "You grabbed me first, Ferret."

"Bloody hell," he sighed. "Just mind your own business, would you? I didn't ask you to come over here and grace me with your less than delightful presence, and your know it all attitude, Granger."

"Oh," she said quietly, "you weren't even talking about me."

"Ten points to Gryffindor," he crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. "Never stopped to think that maybe I was a little bit preoccupied with being injured and ill to be worried about your grimy, mudblood hands, did you?"

She looked down at her feet in embarrassment. Then, though, she put her wand - and what remained of her sanity - away and walked over to his bedside.

"I'm going to touch your face," she warned him.

"I might bite," he warned, grimacing. His forehead was, indeed, very warm. It was also softer than she had expected it to be. She was momentarily caught up in those damn eyes of his, hand resting on his forehead as she leaned over him carefully. When his eyes shifted down to her chest, the spell was broken again. She rolled her eyes.

"Do you want a potion for the fever?" she asked after she removed her hand.

"No, I want to suffer through it," he scoffed.

She sighed and turned on her heel, stomping the entire way over to the potion and the entire way back to his bed. She extended the bottle to him and watched in annoyance as he carefully checked the label before downing the whole thing and holding it back out for her.

"Do you need anything else, Malfoy?" she asked, sitting the bottle on his table. When he didn't answer, she turned to leave again.

"Granger," he said quietly, halting her motions. "I…"

She waited patiently for him to continue, arms crossed and chin held high.

"I don't know how to say it," he admitted, weakly.

"How to say what?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"How to say thank you," he whispered, so quietly that she barely heard it.

"Malfoy?" she asked. Was this even Malfoy who was talking to her? Had someone - anyone - with the pretentious and upstanding last name of Malfoy ever thanked anyone else for anything?

"For being worried," he said. His eyes shot open as soon as he realized what he'd said. "Damn those bloody drugs that that bloody witch gave me to hell. I didn't mean to say that out loud."

"Oh," she said quietly. She had no idea how to respond to this. What was even happening? He said thank you? He was thankful that she - Hermione Granger - was worried about him?

"Look, I'm just going to say this fast," he whispered. "I haven't seen anyone else in over twenty four hours. Besides that old hag who took care of me today. No one came."

"I'm sorry," she dropped her arms to her sides and bit her lip.

"I don't want your pity," he scoffed. "And stop biting your damn lip. It's bad enough that you're prancing around here in that uniform."

"Malfoy," she ventured, "why was it me that you looked at?"

He covered his face with his hands and sighed deeply, pondering her question.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, laying his hands back down. "I just… I knew that you would care. I'm not even going to remember this in the morning, and to be honest I'll probably try to hex away your memory of it, but can you just sit beside my bed?"

She watched him for a moment, to be sure that he was being serious.

"I'm going to be in here for at least one more night, Granger," he went on. "I haven't talked to bloody anyone in weeks and-"

"What about your friends?" she asked.

He laughed dryly. "My friends are no better than me, Granger. If I wanted to talk to myself, I'd talk to a bloody mirror."

"Logical," she nodded.

"Always," he agreed.

"I'm going to, umm, get a chair," she announced. "Do you need anything while I'm up?"

"Some water would be nice," he shrugged. "If you happen to find Hermione while you're out there, send her back in instead."

She rolled here eyes and walked away from him. A very small part of her brain was encouraging her, quite loudly, to hand him the water and walk away. She found that the majority of her brain found no problems with staying, though. He didn't have a wand, he was pretty well drugged up, and, if nothing else, maybe he would let some important information slip out. With those points presented, she made the firm decision to sit by a Malfoy's hospital bed and see what would happen next.

Instead of a chair, she opted to roll a bed over towards him, leaving a foot or two of space in between them. She pulled back his curtains all of the way and handed him his water before carefully climbing onto her own bed.

It was an awkward stalemate for several long minutes. Draco slowly drank his water, eyeing her every now and then. Hermione played with the hem of her dress, her shoelaces, and picked specks off of her tights in between glances at him. She had never really observed much about him beyond his large personality. With his mouth shut, though, he wasn't so bad. He seemed taller than she remembered, and his hair was a little bit shorter. His white-blonde and generally stick-straight hair was in a fantastic state of disarray; it was sticking up in odd places and his disheveled bangs barely brushed the tops of his eyebrows. His skin was alarmingly pale - partially due to his blood loss, but mostly due to genetics and a lack of sunbathing, she assumed - but his arms and torso were nicely sculpted - not in an obnoxious, self-indulgent way, but in an athletic and lean kind of way.

His attitude and confidence were still very obvious, though, which detracted from his physique. The fact that he was completely content with laying there half naked in front of her - unembarrassed and cocky - made it easy to not get caught up in his natural good looks.

"I'm not sure where to begin," she eventually ventured. If she sat here and analyzed him much more, she was afraid that he would begin to look more and more attractive. Pushing him to open his mouth was self-preservation.

"I don't really talk to girls," he said in agreement. "Girls are for fucking." He smirked.

"We could talk about ourselves," she suggested, ignoring his effort to piss her off. "About… light topics, I suppose."

"Like?"

"How about we just start with asking questions and see if we can find something interesting to land on."

"You go first, then," he shrugged. "You're the one with experience in communicating."

"Right," she nodded. "Umm, what's your favorite color?"

"Blue," he said. She waited for a few seconds and then informed him that now it was his turn to ask a question. "Oh. Favorite… food?"

"Mashed potatoes. Hobbies?"

"That's very general," he said, sounding a little displeased. "But I'm sure that you could answer that for me. I play quittich, study, and dabble in dark and violent things, of course. You?"

"Reading," she said. He snorted and she glared at him. "I also love ice skating, though."

"I've never been."

"Oh, it's delightful! It takes a bit of getting used to, but it's very liberating once you get the hang of it. You should try it sometime as a study break this winter."

"As if I'll have time for study breaks. Not that they will matter, though. I'll come in as a solid second-place student no matter how much studying I do, thanks to your ridiculous habits."

"Sorry," she blushed. "Umm… who was your first kiss?"

"That's a bit personal," he said.

"Then never-"

"Pansy, of course," he answered, surprising her. "Terrible kiss, it was. I try her out again from time to time, but she's never really improved." Hermione was not sure whether to be disgusted or amused. "Who was yours?"

"Krum," she said, without hesitating. Everyone knew that, didn't they? "First and only."

"Hmm…" he trailed off, contemplating something. "I would have figured that Weasel had at least gotten to first base."

"With other girls, yes," she wrinkled her nose.

"Shot him down, did you?"

"Hardly," she took her turn snorting.

"He's as daft as I'd assumed, then." Draco looked pleased at this fact.

"It's not like I threw myself at him," she pointed out. "I don't throw myself at anyone, in fact."

"But why else would a girl spend so much time with two boys? She's bound to want to shag one of them."

"I don't want to shag either of them," she protested.

"Fine, fine," he rolled his eyes. "Don't get your knickers in a twist. Clearly you did not find Hermione anywhere out there while you were getting my water."

"About that," Hermione said, "since when is it acceptable to create sexual fantasies about a mudblood?"

"Who says you're a mudblood in my sexual fantasies?" he countered.

"But I am there?" she prodded.

"You know the answer to that, Granger. Just because you've got muddied blood and a broomstick up your arse doesn't mean that I can't admire that arse."

Her face turned several shades of red before she could recover from that comment. Draco Malfoy looked at her arse? Draco Malfoy looked at her in a sexual way? He had just completely admitted to having sexual fantasies about her and was not embarrassed or ashamed? As she thought about it more, though, she was not entirely surprised. He was not the most polite or restrained human being on the planet, and he had made it clear to the school that he was a very sexual being.

"You've got the librarian image," he said, interrupting her thoughts. "Librarian, secretary… you look like quite a prude, but if you'd only shake that hair out, I'm sure you'd be quite the monster in bed."

"Let's change the topic," she squeaked out.

"Not comfortable talking about your arse, Granger?" His eyes has a devilish gleam in them now. "It's nothing to be ashamed about, I assure you. It's one of the nicer areses I've seen. Sometimes I ponder about what a shame it is that such a bookwormish prude is in possession of such a nice arse."

The world was no longer spinning on its axis and Hermione's face was getting redder by the second.

"I believe it's my turn, though," he said. She let out a long breath that she had not been aware of holding. "What's your stand on our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"I can't quite get a read on her," Hermione admitted. "She's a bit puzzling."

"She's a bit of a bitch," Draco corrected. "She acts like she's got a multitude of broomsticks up her arse."

Hermione giggled. "What do you like to read?" she asked.

"What a predictable question," Draco mocked her. "I would have never guessed that Granger, of all people, would be interested in knowing about books," he drawled on sarcastically.

"Must you always be an insufferable arse, Malfoy?" she asked. "Perhaps I'll put a bit of poison in the next glass of water I fetch for you."

"Pulling out some foul language, eh?" He smirked. "You'd have a hard time finding a type of poison that I don't have a tolerance built up against." She rolled her eyes at him. "I like poetry."

"Come again?" she asked, confused at the shift in the conversation.

"You asked me about literature," he reminded her, condescendingly. "I like poetry. Frost, Poe, Whitman…"

"Muggle poetry? Draco Malfoy reads muggle poetry?"

"Now, don't go screaming it around school, Granger, but it's not half bad. I've yet to find a wizard poet who has as much talent as those muggles."

"Fascinating."

"Yes," he agreed. "And incredibly sexy."

"Poetry?"

"No, me," he smirked.

"Add on narcissistic, cruel, and entirely vain and then the description is a little bit more accurate."

"Narcisssistic, cruel, vain, fascinating, and sexy," he stated, emphasizing the last word with a wink. "Sounds pretty accurate."

"Perhaps we should subtract the part about your looks," she corrected herself.

"Oh, Granger," he clicked his tongue at her. "Do y'know what I could really go for right now?"

"I don't think I want to-"

"Some alcohol," he cut her off. "Nothing helps mend wounds and allow for peaceful nights of sleep more than a bit of firewhisky."

"Wouldn't know," she shrugged.

"Of course you wouldn't," he scoffed. "Goody Two Shoes Granger would never, ever, drink alcohol or anything even remotely fun."

"I do fun things," she protested.

"Like?" he raised his eyebrows.

Hermione racked her brain for anything to come back at him with, but nothing presented itself. She studied, helped Harry and Ron study, and read books. Of course there was the occasional sleepover with Ginny and other girls, or tame parties in the common room after quittich games. Nothing even remotely close to the kind of fun that he was referring to, though.

"That's what I thought." He looked smug.

"I don't see how getting completely inebriated and waking up with a massive headache is in anyway fun," she protested.

"It depends on your company," he shrugged. "I bet you'd actually be halfway decent if you were knackered."

"I highly doubt that you will ever find me to be halfway decent."

"I'll never know until I get you drunk," he shrugged.

"Well, that's never going to happen."

"Is that a challenge?" he asked.

"No," she said. "It's just the truth. Malfoy's don't drink with mudbloods. Hell, Malfoy's don't even associate with mudbloods if they can help it."

"I'm associating with you now."

"Only because you're hoping to get a better view of my arse in this dress," she said.

"Though that is partially true," he agreed, "the facts are that I am associating with you at this very moment. I would be completely compliant to getting you drunk, if only to observe the effects. A shot or two of firewhisky would be guaranteed to knock that broom loose."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, it's a pity that you'll never get the chance."

"Says who?"

"Me," she answered. "And you, when you're not drugged up and laying in a hospital bed. Your family, Slytherins, the entire universe?"

"I will get drunk with whoever I desire to get drunk with," he assured her. "In fact," he went on, "I dare you to bring a bottle of whatever you can find when you come for your shift tomorrow."

"I can't get drunk while-"

"I know spells to reverse it," he cut in. "It's a perfect plan. I'll ensure that I'm the only patient in this damn infirmary tomorrow night. We'll have a jolly good time getting entirely messed up together, see what comes of it, and then have a bloody hilarious secrets to ourselves when we go back to the outside world."

"You're entirely insane," she told him.

"And you're a complete coward," he shot back. "But I'll let the topic slide for now. You know my stipulations, so let us resume with our girly conversations for now and let tomorrow play out on it's own, eh?"

He started back up with lighter, less completely insane topics, and the conversation continued from there, proceeding to flow more smoothly than either of them had anticipated it would. Other than a few innuendos and sexual slurs, the topics were light and fairly impersonal. Hermione felt as if she was making a new acquaintance, not talking to her arch nemesis. She would have been lying if she didn't admit that a large part of her was actually enjoying the night.

He was a bit of a narcissistic arse, and he was far more crude and overbearing than she was accustomed to, but with all things considered, the situation had worked out quite nicely. She knew that as soon as he was released from the infirmary that everything would go back to normal again - the world would once again be spinning properly on its axis, and hell would cease to be frozen over. Somehow, though he was inclined to be evil and she was the best friend of the Chosen One, they were not nearly as different as she had assumed.

She was not sure if that was a good thing or not.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N

Well, here's another chapter! I was motivated to finish it because it gave me an excuse to ignore the insane amount of studying that I need to do. The rest of this week will be insanely busy because of finals on Thursday and then work on Saturday and Sunday, so I can make no promises about when the next chapter will pop up, but I'll do my best to have it finished by this time next week (:

Reviews and comments would be wonderful - and definitely help to motivate me to write more ;)

Happy Tuesday!

Chapter Four

Hermione woke up suddenly when the loud sound of her alarm began to blare through her brain, filling up all of the empty spaces and making her groan. She located her wand and mumbled the counter spell to turn it off, being very careful to actually cancel the spell instead of just causing the obnoxious thing to "snooze." She glanced at the boy - or was he actually a man now? - sleeping on the bed and remembered why she was so insanely tired.

The last thing that he had said to her, at five a.m. when his eyelids had started to droop, was, "you know that this doesn't mean we're friends, Granger." She had nodded in response before letting her own eyes slide shut. It had been a good conversation, she couldn't deny that. As they both got sleepier and sleepier, there was not much substance, but the fact that Harry Potter's best friend had been capable of carrying on a two hour long conversation with a member of the Malfoy bloodline was quite an impressive accomplishment. He wasn't too much of a slimy git when he was half asleep and drugged up. In fact, if one could look past his semi-common lewd comments and arrogant personality, he was actually almost bearable and at some times… funny?

She stood up suddenly as the overwhelming realities of her new situation finally hit her. This was a big deal. Conversing with a Malfoy? Swapping stories with the enemy? Sure, neither of them had talked about anything more important than the attractive qualities of Hermione's derriere, but the fact that they had talked at all was scandalous in itself. She took one last deep breath and composed herself. It was six fifty four now and Madame Pomfrey would be walking back out of her room at any moment.

Hermione hurried over to the desk and grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill. She scribbled as quickly as she could. The note was folded and placed under his pillow no less than three minutes later and Hermione had just sat back down at the desk when Madame Pomfrey emerged.

Since today was Friday, Hermione only had one class after lunch. She dropped her bags off in her dormitory after a polite conversation with Madame Pomfrey and then made her way to the Great Hall for a breakfast that she knew she would not be hungry for. On the way to the Great Hall, she looked down at her outfit, slapping a hand to her forehead before locating her wand and muttering a spell to change the clothes into appropriate Hogwarts attire. She barely remembered to pull that ridiculous hat off of her head, stowing it in her bag and patting her hair down, before opening the doors.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny were already seated. Ron appeared to be halfway through his second plateful of waffles while Harry and Ginny were eating slowly, grinning across the table at each other like Cheshire cats every now and again. Ron smiled widely at her as she approached, giving her an unpleasant view of his breakfast.

"Good morning, 'ermione!" he greeted her after he swallowed. After closer inspection of her, though, he added, "bloody hell, Hermione, you look like… hell."

"Well, thank you very much, Ronald," Hermione huffed. Ginny smacked her brother upside the head and greeted Hermione.

"You were out late last night," Ginny commented.

"Helping in the infirmary, remember?" Hermione said, picking a smallish looking waffle and putting it on her plate. "Tonight's my last night. Haven't learned as much as I'd hoped."

"I heard that Malfoy's in there," Ginny said, sounding gossipy and intrigued. "Was he a pain in the arse?"

Hermione blushed a little at that word, but shook her head at Ginny. "He was asleep for all but a few minutes of my time there," she lied. "It was for the best, I'm sure."

"I heard he looked a mess," Harry piped in.

"I didn't get a good look at him." Another lie. "I really didn't have much to do with him. Everyone was basically asleep the entire time," Hermione shrugged.

"I bet they finally Marked him," Harry said. "More and more Slytherins have been pulled out of school for a couple of days at a time."

"None of them have come back to stay in the infirmary, though," Hermione pointed out. "Maybe that's not what it was at all."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they did," Harry continued. "Everyone is preparing for this battle. Dumbledore has barely even been at the school. He's off finding those horcruxes that he told me about, remember? He won't even hear me out when I ask to go with him."

"There has to be something more that we could do," Ron spoke up, grabbing a piece of toast. "We can't just sit 'ere and eat our breakfast every morning, pretending like there's not a huge war about to start."

"We'll figure something out," Hermione assured them. "But not right now. Right now, we should do just that: eat our breakfasts and forget about the silly war for a while. How have you lot been?"

"Busy planning the ball," Ginny said, looking relieved that the topic had changed. "It's taking ages to get everyone to agree on anything at all. Lavender wants one theme, but a Hufflepuff wants another. Don't even get me started on the Ravenclaw and Slytherin girls, either."

"Well, I'm sure you'll all be able to smooth it out," Hermione smiled.

"You should be lucky that the Head Girl and Head Boy don't have to deal with it at all," Ginny said. "All of this planning is going to ruin the fun of the entire night for me. I haven't even got a date yet."

Hermione glanced sideways at Harry before looking at Ginny and raising her eyebrows questioningly. Ginny sighed. Hermione elbowed Harry in the ribs, and he choked on a bite of his waffles.

"I'm getting there," he mumbled quietly, glaring at Hermione.

She raised her eyebrows at him, as well.

"Who are you going with, Mione?" Ginny asked.

"No one yet," Hermione shrugged. "I may just go stag. It's not like any boys will actually want to dance."

"Do you have a dress?" the redhead's eyes lit up.

"I was waiting until the Hogsmeade trip this Saturday," Hermione said, knowing that that was exactly what Ginny wanted to hear. "I assume you'll be coming with me?"

Ginny smiled brightly and nodded.

From that point on, Hermione's day continued along fantastically. She stayed in the great hall with her friends until the conversation had died down a bit. Ginny had to run off to classes, but the boys walked Hermione back up to the common room. She waved goodbye before making her way up to her bedroom and collapsing on the bed without even bothering to take her shoes off.

She slept soundly and felt rejuvenated when she woke up several hours later to take a shower and run off to class. She paid just enough attention in class to take notes and was glad when her second class ended. After trudging through a homework session with the boys, and half-way listening to the most recent gossip from Ginny at dinner, Hermione retreated into her room for another nap before it was time to relieve Madame Pomfrey.

When she woke up for the second time that day, she got dressed quickly. She was glad that - since she was Head Girl - she had her own room; it was nice to not be woken up during naps by giggling girls or to have to worry about waking someone up by turning on a light. She pulled her hair into a low side bun, leaving a few curls loose, and opted to carry the hat with her instead of wearing it right away.

Before she walked out of the door, though, she had one last thing to grab. She hardly believed that she was actually going to go through with this silly dare, but she found herself taking the heavy glass bottle of firewhisky out of the bottom of her trunk and stowing it in her bag alongside her books. She straightened her shoulders, checked her hair one last time, and made her way to the infirmary.

"Where's your hat, Granger?" Malfoy asked fifteen minutes later when she opened his curtain. She had placed it on the desk after Madame Pomfrey had left the room. True to his word, he was the only patient in the infirmary for the second night in a row.

"I thought it silly to be concerned about a uniform when I'm sneaking firewhisky into the infirmary," she replied. A devilish smirk spread across his pale face.

"Impressive, Granger," he said. "I guess I will have to retract my statement about you being a coward. Your note this morning did not have me convinced."

"Guess you will," she agreed. "I've just realized, though, that I forgot to bring any glasses."

"Afraid of my saliva?"

"Hardly," she scoffed. "You're the one that's always worried about dirtying yourself with my muddied bodily fluids."

"My blood is the purest of purebloods," he responded, a joking hint to his voice, "a little bit of mud mixed in won't hurt me."

"You first, then," she said, pulling the bottle out of her bag and handing it to him. While he opened it and took a swig, she sat her bag on the floor and moved her bed closer to his. They sat directly across from each other, legs crossed and eyes locked. He handed the bottle to her and watched her intently as she took it with both hands and stared at it for a moment.

"It won't bite you," he assured her. She glared at him briefly. "Is this really the first time you've ever drank, Granger?"

"Yes," she responded quietly.

"You shouldn't take a small sip," he advised. "I'm not pulling your leg, either. It's better to jump into the pool than to just stick your toe in, you know?"

She eyed him curiously, not sure if she believed him or not. She knew that she was making a mountain out of an anthill about this alcohol issue. One little drink would surely not kill her. But perhaps it was not the smartest idea to start drinking with a Malfoy. On the other hand, though, at least Malfoy would not be attempting to violate her like some of the other boys in this school would.

She glanced down at the bottle again, taking in the feel of the glass and its weight. When she had gotten this as a gag gift from the boys for her birthday this year, she hadn't ever expected to drink it until after school. She had thought, perhaps, that she would save it for the week of graduation and use it as some kind of celebration. Perhaps, though, it would be better to try it now so that she would not be as shocked later.

She wanted to slap herself on the forehead when she realized how long she must have been staring at the stupid bottle.

"Bottoms up," she announced, quietly. She brought it up to her lips and took a decent amount of it into her mouth. It did not taste anything like she had expected it to. It was not entirely unpleasant, but the way that it burned its way down her throat was something she would certainly have to get used to. When she had finished swallowing - and reeling from the effects of it - she passed the bottle back to Draco.

"Alright there?" he asked, sounding the slightest bit concerned.

"Shocked," she said, quietly, rubbing her neck. "It was definitely… firey."

He laughed then, his silver blue eyes sparkling. It was not a particularly friendly laugh, but he sounded genuinely amused.

"Bottoms up, indeed," he said, taking a large drink. "Shall we play some sort of drinking game?"

"There are games?" she asked.

"Merlin, yes," he said. "Are you daft?"

"Innocent," she corrected. "What kind of game could we play?"

"Well, there are usually more people," he explained. "There's always truth or dare, but that's a bit overused. We could play I never. I think we'd be an equal match for that one."

"You'll have to explain the rules to me."

"I assumed," he nodded, sounding a bit condescending. "We take turns saying things that we have never done. If the other person has done that thing, they have to take a drink. So, for example, I could say I've never been outside of London. If you have been, you have to drink."

"Sounds simple enough," she said.

"Drinking game generally are," he smirked. "I've never been a girl."

"That seems like a cheap question," she argued.

"The rules don't say that the questions have to be tricky," he shrugged, handing her the bottle. She rolled her eyes and took a sip, noticing that the burning was not quite as overwhelming this time.

"Well, then," she said, "I've never been a boy."

He took the bottle back and downed another large mouthful of the stuff.

"I've never been a Gryffindor."

"Well, I've never been a Slytherin," she countered, taking a sip and passing it back.

"I've never kissed a boy."

"These gender and school specific lines are getting a bit old," she rolled her eyes, taking another drink. "I've never kissed Pansy Parkinson."

"Ah, more specific," he raised his eyebrows. "I've never been a mudblood."

"I've never been a prat."

"I've never had a broom up my arse."

"I've never been a ferret." He glared at her for that one.

"I've never been best friends with a Weasel."

"I've never played quittich."

"Lightening it up, Granger?" he asked, smirking. "You may want to slow down a bit. This stuff is as strong as it tastes."

"Your game isn't very fun," she said, taking the bottle from him and drinking a mouthful - mostly just to be defiant. "What else do drunk people do?"

"Dance," he responded. "But we've got no music and the old hag is sleeping."

"Besides, then you'd have to touch me," she added.

"Oh, like I'm afraid to touch Muddy Granger?" he asked, bemused.

"You wouldn't want to dance with me."

"Says who?" he countered.

"Well, firstly," she began, "you shouldn't get up and dance. And secondly, I'm a terrible dancer."

"Thirdly," he added, "Pothead and Weasel might kill me."

"Fourthly," she chimed in, "your father would disown you."

"I do whatever I please," he retorted.

"Did you wish to be pulled out of class the other day?" she said, not realizing that she had actually said it until a moment too late. "I-I'm sorry."

"No, no," he grabbed the bottle from her. "Let's do this while I'm drunk." His eyes were suddenly hard and she shivered a little from the look that he gave her. "Do you really want to talk about what happened that day? Everyone can probably guess already."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered again. "Let's just forget-"

"It would be nice if I could," he raised his voice. "I would love to forget about this entire fucking week and everything that's happened. But instead I'm sitting here in a hospital bed, drinking firewhisky with a mudblood, with the Dark Mark branded into my skin."

She stopped breathing for a moment, staring into his angered, cold eyes. Did he mean that? Is that really what had happened while he was gone? She had assumed that maybe his father had beat him around because of some kind of family problem. She had rolled around the idea that maybe he was helping the Dark Lord in some way. But it was unheard of for a wizard his age to have the mark, wasn't it?

"Malfoy," she said quietly. He broke their eye contact to gulp down a good amount of the alcohol.

"I don't want your pity, Granger," he spat out. His voice was calmer now, but his eyes remained the same.

"You didn't want it, did you? The Mark?" she asked. His eyes confirmed her suspicion. "Then why?"

"Not all of us get the chance to be good," he responded. "Not all of us get to be best friends with the Chosen One and prance around saving the world from villains, yet remain innocent and naïve about everything. Some of us don't get a choice."

"They couldn't have forced-"

"There was no other option," he hissed. "You were born to be Pothead's best friend, and I was born as the son of the Dark Lord's right hand man."

Her head was spinning - mostly because of the firewhisky - and her heart was breaking for him. And then something occurred to her.

"I can't see it, though," she mentioned.

"That's because the Dark Lord is not stupid," he scoffed. "It's on my hip. It's not as if I could go strolling around Hogwarts with the Dark Mark on my forearm, Granger."

"There has to be something that can be done," she shook her head.

"I'm already branded." He pulled the sheet back and removed a pile of gauze from his hip, revealing the angry wound, to prove his point. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch it. The sight of the red, oozing mark made her wince.

"But if you didn't want it, then maybe I can do something to-"

"Help me?" he laughed dryly. Her mind began to race, searching for an answer. Hadn't she just been talking with the boys about finding something to do to help? What if she could somehow help Malfoy out while giving her own side of the war and advantage, as well?

"If you don't want to be a deatheater, then you're for our side, right?"

"I don't get to choose."

"But what if you did?"

"You've lost your mind," he shook his head and took another couple of gulps.

"You shouldn't drink that too quickly," she advised.

"You should drink more," he countered.

"There has to be a solution."

"No one can fix this," he assured her. "The damage is done. I've known that this day would come, and I've prepared for it as much as I can. Now I have to live with the results."

"What if I could get you out?"

He laughed again, that defeated, dry laugh.

"I am completely and one hundred percent serious, Malfoy," she said. "We could go to Dumbledore right now and tell him what's happened. You do have a choice and-"

"I can't go to Dumbledore," Draco shook his head.

"Then we'll do it ourselves," she decided. "We'll figure something out on our own."

"How are you going to be able to help me?" he said, incredulously. "Are you going to just march into one of the deatheater meetings and slap the Dark Lord's wrist?"

"We could be spies," she suggested.

"I retract my earlier statement," he announced. "You are not allowed to have any more to drink."

"I'm serious." She stood up and moved to sit on the edge of his bed, talking quietly. "I've read about some very old magic that I think we could use, Malfoy. It's hard to explain, but it's something that binds two people together to allow them to create a large amount of power. And, besides, I'm Harry Potter's best friend. That makes me enough of an asset to the Dark Lord as it is."

"You've gone mad."

"Look, Malfoy, I'm going to be running off with Harry and Ron to do something crazy to win this inevitable war eventually, so why not just do it now? Sure, it will be harder without Dumbledore or the Order backing me up, but we're the smartest two students in this school. If anyone could come up with a plan to trick V-Voldemort, it's us."

He stared at her for a very long time, expression unwavering. Her breathing was uneasy and her emotions were on edge. So much had changed in the past few minutes that her poor, overwhelmed brain had no idea where to start analyzing. She had been surprised to see how quickly she had decided to help him, and she was further surprised by the amount of enthusiasm that had overtaken her once she had decided to help him.

Though she was naïve, she knew how to be sure if someone was lying to her. His eyes had told her everything that she had needed to know. If he honestly had no desires to go down the road that had been chosen for him, and if he would honestly go through with her plan, it would benefit them both. He would get out of his terrible situation, and she would become a huge asset to the light side of the battle.

"You should think about this," he spoke up after several minutes. "We both should."

"I won't change my mind," she assured him. "I would take a binding oath at this very moment, if you would."

"You're a mental case."

"Oh, like you aren't?" she said. "How is it sane to let someone brand you like a cow and ask you to fight for something that you disagree with?"

"How is it sane to willingly agree to be branded like a cow for someone that you've spent almost seven years hating?"

"I never hated you," she whispered, shaking her head. "And think of how much we would be helping."

"He knows everything that you're thinking," Draco reminded her.

"That's why I'd need you to teach me Occlumency," she said. "I've read enough about it, and tried some exercises on my own. I'm assuming that you're practiced in it because you've somehow convinced him that you actually want to be one of his minions."

He dropped his face into his empty hand, clutching the bottle loosely with the other. His skin seemed to soak up the moonlight as he sat there in contemplation. He looked up at her after a moment, locking his light eyes onto hers.

"Do you really think that we could do this?" he whispered.

"The two brightest wizards of our age, both huge assets to our respective sides of this battle, and both incredibly stubborn…" she trailed off, holding his gaze. "I don't see why we couldn't. You'd have to be patient with me, and I'd be patient with you in return, of course. We're not the most likely pair for this mission, perhaps, but that's what gives us a leg up, don't you think?"

"Where do we start?" he asked.

"We'll find a meeting place," she answered. "We'll meet in secret every night and work on Occlumency for me, and the necessary steps to take for the binding process. The literature that I've read said that it will take a month at the least."

"Why don't you just bind yourself to Weasel?" he asked.

"It doesn't work that way," she shook her head. "You can't do it with someone that you know that well. That's what makes it so powerful, I suppose. We have to blindly trust each other, even though we have no reason to. It's meant for two rivals joining together for one common cause. It's a bit more complicated than I can get into in my current state, but I can bring all of my books and papers on it to our first meeting, if you'd like."

"Yes," he agreed. "I think we should look at it together, and wait until then to completely make up our minds. The Dark Mark - or whatever Voldemort might do to you instead - isn't something that you can erase, Granger."

"I'm aware," she assured him. "But if we could take him down together, then I don't see why we shouldn't try. We both end up free in the end, and as war heroes, nonetheless."

"You'll think differently without a stomach full of firewhisky," he assured her.

"Malfoy," she scolded him, "I am not drunk."

"You're a bit tipsy," he countered. She had noticed that she felt very warm, and just the slightest bit dizzy, but her brain was not affected.

"And you're ill," she pointed out. "You were not far from being dead, Malfoy, so your judgment could be even foggier than mine."

"We could end up killing each other, you know," he said. "We've never gotten along."

"We're getting along now," she shrugged. "Maybe all we needed was a common goal to make us overlook the fact that we loathe each other."

"Or maybe it was the alcohol," he suggested. "All of this talking has made me dizzy." He shifted on his bed and laid down on his back, resting his hands on his stomach.

"I'm sorry I ruined your fun night of drinking," she said.

"I'm sorry I ruined your first encounter with alcohol."

"It's not ruined," she assured him. "Although I think that next time I'll try something a bit more girly."

"Can't handle your liquor, Granger?"

"I've handled it so far," she said.

"What time is it?"

"Nearly two."

"Five more hours until the hag wakes up and I convince her to give me an early discharge for good behavior," he smirked, sleepily.

"How's your pain?" she asked.

"Tolerable," he shrugged. "Better than yesterday."

She yawned suddenly and stretched her arms above her head.

"You shouldn't do that," he mumbled, watching her through sleepy eyes.

"Do what?"

"Bite your lip," he answered. She hadn't even realized that she was doing it. "You do it all of the bloody time," he said. "It's maddening."

"I'll try to refrain," she assured him. He shrugged indifferently. "You should get some rest."

He nodded, closing his eyes.

"Thanks for the firewhisky," he said. She smiled and stood up, straightening his sheet before laying down on her own bed. She laid down on her side under the blankets, closing her eyes and wondering what kind of ridiculous surprise would come next. It would be hard to top getting tipsy with Malfoy and agreeing to team up to take down the Dark Lord.

Yes, it would have to be something really spectacular to top that one.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N

Well, finals are finally over! Here's another chapter. It's a bit shorter than the last two, but I thought you would rather read a short chapter than not get a chapter at all ;) Reviews would be lovely, of course, and I will do my best to have another chapter up in a couple of days. No guarantees, though, because I work four twelve hour shifts this week :P

Chapter Five

Hermione sat nervously on the edge of the couch in the Room of Requirements. There were stacks of books and papers placed on the table in front of her and a cauldron with most of the ingredients for a potion as well. She was surprised at the amount of nervousness that had overtaken her when she woke up this afternoon and started to prepare for tonight. It wouldn't be the end of the world if he didn't show up. She didn't have to help him at all, and the light side would still find some way to weaken Voldemort enough to win the war. So why was she so worried about him showing up?

She knew he had been released from the infirmary because he had been at dinner that night. She could feel him watching her, and she took her turns watching him from across the room, too, but they never locked eyes. He had seemed like his normal self again, sitting there with his friends with a smirk on his face. Every now and then, though, he looked distant and introspective.

Maybe he was with some girl, she reasoned. That would be a very Malfoy-like reason to be late. Or maybe he wasn't going to show up. Maybe he had just been influenced by the firewhisky the other night and now completely regretted telling her any of it. Maybe he would meet her only to hex the memories away.

Or maybe something had happened to him in between dinner and now - eleven fifteen at night. Maybe his father had come again and-

The door opened and her train of thought was lost as a blonde-headed Slytherin appeared. He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, carrying a hooded jacket in one arm. She had never seen Malfoy dressed in anything but school clothes or formal wear so it took her a moment to adjust to this new side of him.

She had changed outfits five times - again with that uncertainty and unexplainable nervousness - before deciding on clothes as simple as his: jeans, a t-shirt, and a zip-up sweatshirt. She had pulled her hair - which was unreasonably curly today - up into a ponytail.

"Granger," he greeted her.

"Malfoy," she responded. "I wasn't sure if you were coming."

"I wasn't, either," he said. "This bonding spell that you mentioned," he continued, "is known as the viniculum, correct?"

"Yeah," she answered, surprised. "How did you know?"

"It's kind of a funny story," he grimaced. They had to look quite comical: Hermione sitting at the very edge of a couch, sleeves pulled down over her nervously fisted hands and Draco standing at least ten feet away, clutching a jacket tightly in his hand, standing very still.

"You could… you could sit down, if you wanted," she offered, moving over to one end of the large couch. He watched her for a moment or two and then sat down towards the middle of the couch, staring straight ahead.

"When they marked me, I was given a task," Draco said. He laughed dryly and put his head in his hands. "My father told me about viniculum and told me that the Dark Lord wanted me to secretly bind myself to one of Potter's best friends so that I could pull one of you to our side of the battle and get information. That's why I know what it is. I was planning on using Weasel because he's so daft that I assumed he wouldn't even know what hit him."

Hermione nodded. Viniculum could be used in two different ways. The way that she had intended to use it was an equal binding and sharing of power. The two people being bound together would grow strong together, and they would hold an equal amount of power together. If the spell was done in secret, though, the relationship between the two people being bound tended to resemble more of a slave-master relationship.

"But now you've suggested it to me and, though you intend to bind us together in a different way," he continued, "I'm having trouble accepting how flawlessly this would work out, Granger. Though we would be using the spell in a different way, we would still be bound together through viniculum and that's exactly what the Dark Lord asked me to do. You somehow suggested the very thing that I needed without even knowing. That's why I'm here, Granger. It's like you somehow knew how to fix every problem that I was handed this week. It's incomprehensible.

"And the fact that you and I are enemies makes then entire thing even more strange. But what's even stranger is that even though I considered binding us together the way that I was intended to, in secret and in a way that would give me more power, the more that I thought about it, the more I realized that I didn't want to.

"Granger I… I'm not good at being weak. Right now, though, I am. I detest having to ask you for your help and I question the wisdom of asking you to help me in this way, but I find myself trusting you more and more each time I think about it. You're my enemy because you are everything that I am not, which means that you are honest and trustworthy. Your reasons for helping me make to much sense for me to turn this down.

"That was a lot of talking, but what I meant to say is that I'm willing to trust you, Granger, and bind myself to you and help you take Him down, if you're still willing."

Hermione was entirely blown away. Though his voice had been a bit cold and detached, the Malfoy that was sitting in front of her was not the Malfoy that she knew. He was still that defeated boy who had been laying on the hospital bed, betrayed and used by members of his own family. This had to be some form of destiny that they had ended up being in the exact places and circumstances that they were in at this very moment. He needed her just as much as she needed him, and that was exactly what the original use of this binding spell called for.

"Of course," she answered, without hesitation. "I guess we won't be needing these books then," she motioned to them, "but I have most of the ingredients for the potion. I'm fully prepared to begin tonight. Did you bring your part of the potion?"

He brought a few small glass bottles out of the pockets of his jackets and sat them on the table. "We should start the potion first," he said. "The first step won't take long. Then we can take the oath and begin working on Occlumency."

"Perfect," she agreed.

They worked together flawlessly, somehow, and never once argued. In fifteen minutes, all of the ingredients had been prepared perfectly and added in the exact order. Draco stirred the concoction five times, counter-clockwise, and then they moved back to the couch silently.

Hermione took two identical pieces of parchment from the table and handed one to Draco.

"You'll read the female part, obviously," he said, and she nodded. An interesting aspect to this spell was that when it was performed in the equal way, it could only be between a male and a female. The slave-master form of binding, though, could be performed between any two sexes.

"Of course," she agreed. "So it's your go, then."

He swallowed and licked his lips, letting his eyes focus on the paper before he began.

"I bind myself to you, H-Hermione," he faltered for a moment.

"I bind myself to you, Draco."

"Though we have been enemies, from this day on, you have my trust."

She repeated after him, locking her eyes onto his.

"My life is in your hands, and I'll hold your life in mine. If you die, so shall I, for now, I must have you to survive," Draco read, pausing to let Hermione echo him. "I accept that this is permanent. Bound with blood, and sealed with a kiss."

"I accept that this is permanent," Hermione said. "bound with blood, and sealed with a kiss."

They locked eyes, their expressions saying what their lips could not for fear of ruining the oath. Draco pulled the small knife from his pocket that Hermione had told him to bring, running the blade along his palm and leaving a shallow line of blood. Hermione took it from him carefully and held her breathe as she did the same. He held his hand out, palm up, and she placed her hand into his, wincing as the pressure made her cut hurt worse.

Draco leaned towards her first, stopping a few inches in front of her face. She was distracted with the close view of his fascinating irises for a moment and trying to determine what it was about him that smelled so fantastic. And then, suddenly, she felt self conscious. Malfoy had probably kissed almost every appropriately aged girl in Hogwarts - and even more outside of the school. What if she was terrible?

While she was caught up in a string of self doubt, he watched her carefully. At some point he came to the conclusion that she was not, in fact, going to be sealing anything with a kiss. He closed his eyes, defeated, and moved his head back.

It was at that moment that Hermione overcame her nerves. She reached out cautiously and put her hand on his bicep as she leaned towards him, locking their lips together. It lasted only a few seconds, but she took in every sensation that she could. His bottom lip was smooth and warm in between hers; she had, for some reason, assumed that he would be cold, but he was certainly not. A shiver ran through her body from her head to her toes, making every inch of her body tingle.

She moved away from him slowly and opened her eyes, taking her bleeding hand out of his, and removing her other hand from his shoulder. The expression on his face made it clear that he had felt that bone-trembling shiver, as well, and that that meant that the binding had begun - and not that she had just gone all weak in the knees for Draco Malfoy. Although that had been one hell of a kiss. Other than the after effects of the tingling, she felt completely normal. She knew, though, that the effects would not show up for a few days.

"Merlin," Draco whispered. She handed him a piece of cloth to stop his bleeding as she put pressure on her wound. They couldn't heal them magically or the binding process wouldn't work. "Who taught you to kiss?"

"No one," she said as the wave of self-consciousness returned. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" he asked.

"That it was bad," she said. "At least we only had to do it once."

He looked entirely perplexed. "It was bad?" he asked, sincerely. "You think that you're -" and then Draco Malfoy cut himself off with an honest to Merlin laugh. It was deep and even a little bit hearty. She memorized the expression on his face, wanting to remember the only time that she had ever seen him genuinely amused. "Bloody hell, Granger, that was better than any dream. I always knew you were a vixen."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said. "It was just a kiss."

"Oh, of course," he said sarcastically. "It was only the most sensual kiss of that type that I have ever experienced."

She stared at him, disbelieving.

"You parted your lips, Granger," he said, as if it were obvious, "you flicked your tongue against my lip."

"I-I did?" she asked, cheeks burning. He raised his eyebrows. "Oh," she whispered.

"I find myself not believing that Viktor Krum was your only kiss."

"Well he was," she assured him. "And I can count the amount of times on both hands."

"Hogwart's best kept secret," he murmured.

"Umm, not exactly," she shook her head. "Should we get to work?"

"On?"

"Occlumency? Remember?"

"Oh, fuck, right," he ran a hand through his hair. "I'd suggest that we stand up for this one, but I need a moment first."

"You need a-" she began, but cut herself off. "Oh," her eyes grew wider.

He smirked at her. "It wouldn't be the first time this has happened because of you, Granger. No need to be shy about it."

"I don't get it," she said.

"Get what?" he asked. "The fact that you are, in fact, an attractive woman? Sure, you're an insufferable know it all and complete prude, but I guarantee you that every straight male who attends this school has had a sexual fantasy about Pothead's best female friend at least once."

She blushed again, looking down at her feet.

"And I'm one of the two lucky bastards who's gotten a taste of what your wicked little mouth can do," he said, staring at her as if he could undress her with his eyes.

"But you hate me." She looked up at him.

"So? We've tolerated each others presence for the past four nights in a row, Granger. This is the most time I've spent alone with a girl since… well, ever. I can't deny that you drive me mad, but I can't deny that you're the least whiny, clingy, and unconfident female in this school. You're witty, you're unreasonably attractive, you're argumentative, and you kiss like no one I've ever kissed before. You may be an insufferable bitch sometimes, but at least you're a worthy opponent."

"I'm not sure how to take that," she said.

"It means you drive me crazy," he clarified. "You are the most tempting but infuriating person I have ever met. And now that I know about your naughty little talents, you're even more tempting. You know that this spell gets stronger if we…" he trailed off, winking at her.

"Malfoy I-"

"I know, Granger," he rolled his eyes. "I'm not daft."

"I think we should work on Occlumency now, OK?" she gulped nervously.

"Fine," he shrugged, standing up. "Mind emptied?"

She nodded, standing up, too, and facing him.

"Let's work on the most basic form first," Malfoy said, voice all business. She was relieved to be changing topics. "I'm sure you won't have difficulties with this one, though. It's the more difficult form of Occlumency that you'll need to master, of course. If the Dark Lord sees a blank slate, he'll suspect foul play. If you can simply hide the memories that you don't want him to see, though, he won't suspect a thing."

"Alright," she nodded. She closed her eyes and concentrated on clearing away her thoughts. A moment later, she felt something trying to enter her head, poking around. "Wandless magic?" she asked him, impressed. "Perhaps you'll have to teach me more things than just Occlumency."

"Oh, I can teach you plenty of things, Granger," he said, that cocky, seductive tone entering back into his voice. She felt her embarrassment surface and pop out of the barrier it had been behind before she could even process what was happening. At that same instance, Draco found a way in. Hermione started to struggle against him before realizing that it was pointless and, instead, neatly packaged her emotions back up and shoved them away from him.

"Impressive," he complemented her, slithering back out of her thoughts. "You had complete control of everything, and then you were able to push it all back again after getting flustered. I expected you to need at least an hour of trying to get that far."

"I've done my homework," she said.

"Of course you have," he smirked. "Shall we go again?"

She nodded decisively and closed her eyes again. They went on like that for nearly two hours, Draco casting the spell and finding all of the holes in her defenses, one at a time. Hermione learned quickly. The final time that Draco attempted to read her thoughts, he was surprised to not find a barrier up and to instead be presented with her memory of him as a ferret. A moment later, though, he had broken into her hidden memories, searching around quickly before slamming his way back out of her mind.

"Clever, Granger," he smirked. "And impressive, too."

"It's nearly one thirty a.m.," she mentioned.

"There are no classes tomorrow," he shrugged.

"Then what do you propose we do?" she asked.

"This room can be anything that we need it to be, right?" he asked. She nodded. "I've always wanted to watch one of those… movie things?"

She eyed him curiously, trying to determine if he was joking or not.

"I would make it appear, but I've no idea what the contraptions even look like," he said.

"Why would you want to watch a movie? With me?"

"Well, you're the only muggleborn that I tolerate," he said. "And I've heard that some of them aren't terrible."

And that was how Hermione Granger found herself curled up under a blanket on a couch with Draco Malfoy watching a romantic comedy at one a.m. on a Sunday morning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Draco had produced a shrunken bottle of firewhisky and returned it to its natural size.

"You're trying to turn me into an alcoholic, aren't you?" Hermione asked him, giggling a bit.

"You could have just said no," he pointed out, keeping his eyes on her as he took a large swig.

"It's so bloody relaxing, though," she countered. "And warm." She took the bottle from him and sipped it as daintily as she could in her tipsy state.

"I don't understand what's happening in this bloody thing," Draco admitted, motioning to the large screen the movie was projected onto.

"There's not much to it," she shrugged. "The dark haired fellow is head over heels for her, but she doesn't feel like that about him anymore. All of the rest is just there for comedy."

"Why doesn't he just tell her, then?"

"Because men are stupid," she replied, glancing sideways at him and giggling.

"And girls are daft."

"So are boys," she countered. "Now, be quiet and watch this so you can make sense of it."

Draco rolled his eyes at her and took his firewhisky back. Hermione briefly wondered if this sudden peace between them was due to the binding spell. She hadn't wanted to punch him in over an hour, and he hadn't made any particularly nasty comments to her - except for one particularly blunt comment about her arse, but that was different.

Perhaps being eternally bound to Draco Malfoy would not be as horrifying and terrible as she had imagined it would be. She hated to admit this, but he was actually somewhat enjoyable when he was not trying to be a prat. He had laughed at least once since they turned the movie on - another genuine, realistic laugh - and he had, of course, been sharing his firewhisky with her.

There was no denying that this was odd, but she also could not deny that it wasn't bad, either.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N

It's another chapter! Finals are done and I only work a few times a week, so I should be able to update as frequently as I have been during this winter break. As always, reviews would be greatly appreciated - for the amount of watches and favorites I've gotten, I've not received many reviews ): - and I hope you enjoy the chapter (:

Chapter Six

Hermione's head was pounding when she woke up the next day. She found that she was extremely warm, though, and… had no pants on? She had moved her leg to readjust and noticed a distinct absense of jeans. And then she noticed that the reason that she was so warm was that she was laying on her side, wedged in between the back of a cough and a shirtless Draco Malfoy. A quick shimmy of her body made it clear that she was still wearing all of her other clothes, and that he still had his pants on. Their legs were wrapped together in somewhat if an intimate way.

What had happened last night? She remembered most of the movie and the fire whisky, but then everything got a little bit hazy. She sighed, pulling the blanket up over her shoulders more and flattening her hand on his chest. It felt like such a natural thing to do that she didn't realize how odd it actually was to be touching Malfoy's pectoral muscles. Malfoy's arms were curled around her, fingers laced together, hands resting on her hip. His head was tilted towards the stop of hers and his deep, heavy breaths blew against her hair.

Getting off of the couch would be the logical thing to do, but Hermione was not sure how she would be able to disentangle herself from him. What harm would it do to lay here for a few more minutes, anyway? She had never cuddled like this with Krum - she had been far too shy, and he had been a gentleman - but Hermione found that she was even more comfortable than she had imagined she would be. She was incredibly warm because of the down comforter draped over them, but also because Draco appeared to be some kind of human space heater. His skin was warm against her arm and cheek. He mumbled something incoherent and she jumped a little because of the way his deep voice vibrated thorugh his chest. She turned her head up to look at him. His lips brushed against her forehead and she shivered.

"Granger?" he mumbled, glancing down at her through half opened eyes. She nodded slightly. "Why are you in my bed?"

"We're not in a bed," she said. He glanced over her head at the back of the couch. She decisively ignored how adorable he looked when he was tired and disoriented.

"Maybe I shouldn't have drank the rest of the firewhisky," he said, yawning. She watched him cautiously, body tensed. There was no telling how he would react when he was more awake, less adorable, and being the normal Malfoy again. He reached up with his free arm to rub his eye and let his other hand drop down onto her hip.

"Granger," he said.

"Mmm?"

"Where are your pants?"

"Oh, umm…"

"Did we…" his eyes widened suddenly. "Did I fuck you?"

"Umm, no," she shook her head. He looked almost disappointed. "I must have taken them off at some point," she answered his previous question. "I can't sleep in jeans. Sorry."

"You're sorry for sleeping next to me without pants on while wearing what I can only imagine are a pair of deliciously tiny, lacey panties?" he asked, winking at her. "You should be rewarded for this, not apologizing."

"They're not that tiny," she protested, quietly.

"Granger," he said, sincerely, "I barely even felt the strap on your hip. They can't be all that modest."

She blushed profusely. "No one was supposed to see them," She assured him.

"Tell me, Granger," he said, "why a girl would buy such suggestive panties and never show them to someone else?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, staring at the blanket to avoid looking at him. "I suppose it makes me feel… desirable?"

"Oh, I assure you that you are," he said. "Do we know what time it is?"

She checked and then abruptly sat up, gathering the blankets around her.

"Bloody hell it's cold!" Malfoy shouted. He reached out and attempted to pull her back down.

"It's 2 p.m.," she said, frantically, shaking free of his grasp and scanning the room for her pants. They were tossed in a corner of the room so she dropped the blanket, unwinding her legs from his and stepping gingerly across the cold floor to get them.

"Merlin," Draco whispered, watching her closely.

"Oh, right, just enjoy the show," she said, sarcastically. She stepped into her jeans and pulled them up as quickly as she could.

"I am the first person to see Hermione Granger's fantastic arse in a lacey thong," he said.

"How do you know you're the first?" she asked, as she searched for her socks.

"Because you would not have been kissed only once if someone else had seen you half naked," he said. "You are delicious."

"Oh, stop it," she glared, throwing her shoe across the room at him. It landed lightly on his stomach and he smirked.

"Learn to take a compliment, Granger," he suggested, standing up leisurely and stretching. She was momentarily caught up in realizing just how delicious he himself was before she realized, again, that it was 2 p.m. She pulled a show on each foot and grabbed her sweatshirt off of the table.

"I'm leaving all of these here," she told him, nodding at the books before shimmying into the sweatshirt. "We'll have to come back tonight to complete the next step of the potion. Owl me your schedule for today, please?"

"Sure," he shrugged, putting his shirt on. "You might want to fix your hair before you go, though."

Her eyes widened and she reached up to pat the mass of curls. "Damn it all," she mumbled, taking her hair down and bending over to shake the curls loose. She flipped her head back up and gathered her hair all to one side, securing it into a loose bun. "Better?" she asked.

"You need to stop being so irresistible," he responded, looking a bit entranced.

"And you should probably remember who it is that you're staring at," she said, grabbing her wand. "Maybe then you'll come back to your senses. Don't forget to owl me."

She pushed her way out of the door without looking back and without saying goodbye. She walked angrily to the common room and flung the portrait open harder than she had meant to. Harry, Ron, and Ginny were sitting at the fireplace and immediately noticed her.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, where have you been?" Ron asked.

"Fell asleep studying," she answered quickly.

"You weren't in the library, though," Ginny said, narrowing her eyes. "I checked."

"Where were you?" Harry asked.

"Oh!" Ginny gasped. "Hermione, do you have a… a boyfriend?"

"No!" Hermione protested. "I fell asleep studying."

"She has a boyfriend," Ginny nodded.

Hermione's face turned red against her will and Ginny looked positively delighted.

"What's his name?" Ginny prodded.

"When did this happen?" Ron protested, looking offended and a bit upset.

"I do not have a boyfriend," Hermione insisted.

"You blushed," Harry pointed out.

"I'm flustered!" she countered.

"Because you have a secret boyfriend," Ginny said, smiling widely. "There is no way that you could have slept until two in the afternoon without a teacher or Filch noticing you. You had to be staying in someone's dorm room, and since you won't tell us who, it only makes sense that it was a boy."

"Believe whatever you want to," Hermione said, evenly. She turned away from them and walked up her stairs, nearly slamming her door. She fell onto her bed and stared at the ceiling of her room before deciding that a shower would feel wonderful.

It was only when she stepped under the shower that she noticed the markings on her hip. She stared at the thick black lines in confusion as the water burned her skin. After a few confused moments she reached over to turn the heat down as she processed this new development.

It was fairly easy to assume that this new, intricate, tattoo-like mark that was tarnishing her pale skin was there because of the binding spell. The problem with this assumption, though, was that she had never read anything about marks appearing because of the spell, which concerned her. Had they done something wrong? She leaned against the shower wall, wincing at the cold tile. Merlin, she hoped that she hadn't messed up the spell. It was dangerous enough to be binding herself to Draco Malfoy.

She stayed in the shower longer than she should have, running through every single possible explanation. She had read every bit of paper that she could find about the subject and not once had it mentioned this kind of side effect. Why the bloody hell would she have some kind of odd, unidentifiable pattern all over her hip unless it was because of the binding, though?

After realizing just how long she had been under the showerhead, she quickly washed herself and stepped out of the shower. She pulled on a new pair of jeans and an old t-shirt and walked back down to the common room, hoping that her trio of friends had left by now. To her surprise, they had actually gone. She walked briskly back up to the Room of Requirements where she and Draco had met the previous night and entered after checking to be sure no one had followed her.

She shut the door quietly and then turned to walk further into the room. Instead, though, she ran directly into a solid body. She looked up and was relieved to see that it was Draco - not an intruder - who had wrapped his arms protectively around her to keep her from falling backwards.

"You're still here?" she asked.

"Nowhere better to be," he shrugged. He made sure she was stabilized before dropping his arms and walking back to the couch.

"So you haven't left to take a shower or anything?"

"No," he said. "Do I smell?"

"No, actually," she answered. "But that's not the point. Look." She pulled her shirt up to show him the top part of her newly acquired tattoo. "I was in the shower when I noticed it. This was not here yesterday and I think it might be some kind of side effect from the binding spell. Except that I've researched it thoroughly and never read anything about developing some kind of mark from it."

"What an interesting development," he said.

"Do you have one?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Well, check," she insisted, walking over to him and watching as he lifted his shirt up to reveal a completely normal - though wonderfully defined - stomach. "I don't understand."

"Maybe it's not in the same place as yours," he suggested, taking his shirt off entirely. Hermione was somewhat relieved to see that, yes, Malfoy had developed a mark, too. It was on his left shoulder, tracing along his collarbone and down part of his bicep. She touched him lightly to make him spin around, observing the lines of the mark tracing down to the edge of his shoulder blades. His marking was just as intricate and unexplainable as hers, but its lines were more jagged whereas hers seemed to flow.

"Fascinating," she said. She reached out and traced part of it with her finger for a moment.

"That tickles," he informed her.

"Oh," she stopped. "Does this mean that we did something wrong?" she asked, worried.

"No," he shook his head. "I was scanning a book that my father gave me to read about the spell. You know, I'm sure, that viniculum is not an entirely pure spell, right?"

"Of course," she nodded. "The entire point of the spell is that it draws from the power of both light and dark, so it's only obvious that it has a history of dark magic."

"Well, in the book that he gave me, it discusses the marks," he said. "This book focuses on three of the most potentially dark and dangerous spells known to wizards, and viniculum is one of those spells. The marks don't mean that we did something wrong," he explained, "they mean that we did it entirely right.

"Your books from the light side wouldn't have any recorded information about the effects of the mark because there has never been an outcome quite like this before. The marks are part of the darker side of the magic, Granger, and they mean that we are the first two people to ever fully complete this bond."

"But what I read said that-"

"Some people have completed a form of viniculum, yes," he agreed. "They successfully completed the master-slave form. There is not a single known case where an equal sharing of power has been successfully distributed. The circumstances have to be so perfect for this spell to work to its full potential, Granger. It's an amazing thing that we were able to do this."

"Does that mean, then, that I'm going to have to start using dark magic?"

"No," he shook his head. "Well, being involved with the Dark Lord means tapping into dark magic to some extent, of course. It means, though, that if we choose to use dark magic to take down the Dark Lord, we will have access to the highest concentration of it because we have accurately tapped into both the dark and light sides."

"We have to be sure to keep these hidden at school, then," she said. "Surely at least some of the teachers would know a bit about viniculum."

"That will prove difficult," Draco said. "The marks will span more of our bodies the stronger that we get."

"You mean I'm going to look like some trashy, tattooed motorcycle babe?" she asked, concerned.

"These marks are anything but trashy," he pointed out. "They're ancient patterns. And, besides, yours looks bloody fantastic so far. Can we sit down now?"

"Oh, I can't stay," she said as he dropped to the couch. "I just came to look over the reading again because worrying about this was driving me batty. Now that I know, though, I should probably go to dinner. It's nearly five thirty."

"Why do you need to go?" he asked.

"My friends are already suspicious," she said. "They're all convinced I've got some secret, torrid relationship going on right now."

"So? Let them believe that," he shrugged. "We're both committing a lot of time to this, Granger. You're going to need some kind of excuse for why you're suddenly missing at night."

"But who would I be with?" she asked. "They're eventually going to figure out that it's not someone who they approve of. They'll ask anyone that they suspect."

"So they'll find out that their Gryffindor princess is spending the night with a Slytherin," he shrugged. "Let them."

"I thought that we weren't going to tell anyone about our plans, though."

"We're not," he assured her. "But, as you pointed out, people will begin to notice that we've both gone missing. We're getting along successfully as… friends, I suppose, and we've bound ourselves together for the rest of eternity, so why would adding a fake dating relationship into the mix make anything more difficult? If anything, it will stop people from asking questions."

Her jaw had dropped a bit at the end of his speech. Fake relationship? He had gone absolutely mad.

"It's not entirely ludicrous," he said. "Mudblood or not, all of the straight males in Slytherin are well aware of your physical attributes. Good girls always fall for bad boys, don't they? We'll make them believe that you fell for me and that I enjoy shagging you, or something of the sort."

"But you're not shagging me," she said. "And why do I have to be the pathetic one who fell for you?"

"Fine," he shrugged, "then it was more of a mutual thing. We're both physically attractive and well educated. We were fighting one night in the owlery because I used the last owl and you needed one and then, all of a sudden, we were kissing. And we've never looked back since."

"You're insane," she said.

"Brilliant," he corrected. "And devilishly handsome."

She shook her head, unable to hold back a small grin. "Fine," she accepted. "But we're not going to tell anyone for no reason. Only when they start to get really suspicious."

"Of course," he agreed. "Now, shall we conjure up some food?"

The night flew by after that. Hermione conjured a large cheese pizza and they ate it while scanning the instructions for the next part of the potion. After completing that next step, they set to work on improving Hermione's rapidly increasing Occlumency skills, taking a break every now and then to flip through the book Draco's father had given him.

Before Hermione knew it, nearly six hours had gone by. She was physically and mentally exhausted from all of the training and reading, and he seemed to be as well. They sat on the couch next to each other, staring blankly at the wall for a few moments.

"I should go to bed," she said.

"I don't think I've the energy," he said.

"We've got classes in the morning," she sighed. "My first one starts at nine, and I can't miss breakfast tomorrow."

"So set an alarm," he said.

"What are you suggesting, Malfoy?" she asked, rolling her head towards his.

"That you stay with me," he answered, simply. "Set an alarm and go about your day tomorrow as usual, but stay here with me tonight."

"I think you've been gradually losing your mind this week," she said, laughing a little.

"It was nice," he admitted, quietly, "waking up next to someone. I've never slept with a girl before."

"You've slept with plenty," she said.

"Not actual sleeping," he shook his head. "I've a reputation to keep up, remember?"

"Of course," she nodded. "Oh, why do you do this to me?"

"Do what, Granger?"

"You're like a magnet," she said, yawning. "You're impossible to say no to and impossible to ignore. I don't know why I feel so safe with you all of the sudden when we've been enemies for so long."

"Perhaps because your very life is bound to mine?" he suggested, turning to look at her with his know-it-all expression. "You do remember that if you die, I die as well, right?"

"Right," she said.

"So why wouldn't you trust me?"

"Trusting you with my life and trusting you with some of my emotions are two entirely different things."

"Don't make a big deal out of it," he shrugged. "I'm certainly not. I don't know what all of this bloody means," he admitted, "but I know that I have never slept better than I did last night. I'm not going to question it, Granger. You shouldn't either."

She found his argument undeniably logical. She had slept well last night, too. Better than she had slept in years. What was the point in denying herself that pleasure?

"OK," she agreed. "But no funny business."

"No funny business," he agreed. "But I wouldn't complain if you took your pants off again," he winked.

She rolled her eyes, but found herself standing up to do it anyway. He had already seen her arse, hadn't he? What would it hurt if he saw it again? He laid down on his back and she grabbed the blanket from the floor, pulling it on top of them as she laid down on her side between him and the couch again.

There was no denying how completely natural and comfortable this felt. She realized as she started to relax that there was really no point in going back to her own bed, anyway. She would sleep better here, and she would wake up more refreshed and capable of getting through the long days ahead of her. Besides, he was so warm and she fit so well against him.

"Good night, Malfoy," she said, draping one arm across his chest.

"Night, Granger," he mumbled back, nuzzling his face against her hair. She was asleep mere seconds after that, leaving her no more time to ponder about what kind of odd situation would crop up next.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N

Horray, another chapter! I considered not updating until I got reviews, but I got enough favorites and watches to convince me to upload this anyway. I'm totally serious about the reviews, though, people. It's silly that I am on 23 peoples favorites list, but I only have 21 comments. Isn't that silly? I thought so.

So enjoy your chapter! I have to work the next two nights and then, of course, it's Christmas. So no promises for when the next chapter will show up. But reviews will always make authors write faster ;)

Chapter Seven

Hermione's days fell in to a pattern - as her days at school usually did. It was surprisingly easy to organize Draco into her schedule; he was alarmingly willing to put up with her incessant organizing and planning, and only gave her a little bit of a hard time. He was usually no more than five or ten minutes late meeting her places, and most always remembered to bring what she had asked him to bring. They were getting along swimmingly and Hermione was quite pleased.

Hermione had reached Draco's level of Occlumency in no more than two weeks, and they were now avidly researching and attempting even further levels, using their heightened powers to their advantage. The potion was set to be finished the night that Christmas break began - tonight - and Draco and Hermione had used every spare hour of the past month wisely. Draco brought books full of spells with a darker tinge, and Hermione located powerful spell books full of pure, white magic. They were slowly able to master more and more difficult spells, working together through long, frustrating hours of the night.

Hermione used the excuse of a sort of special project for one of her classes - one which the boys and Ginny were not in. She knew enough about a large amount of topics to make hours of research sound entirely valid, and made the topic sound boring enough that no one asked another question about it. She had no idea, though, what excuse Draco was using with his friends - or whatever he called the people that he ate lunch with and sat beside in class.

They had learned the ability to spell themselves invisible, so Draco had taken to following her back to her room. She had been shocked the first time that he had let her leave the room without asking her to stay, and had been even more shocked when he suddenly appeared in her bedroom. She eventually accepted, though, that he was not going to give in.

She didn't particularly mind waking up to a shirtless Draco Malfoy every morning. It was odd how she had immediately acclimated herself to the possessive way that he held her as he slept, and the few nights that he had spent elsewhere, she found that she distinctly missed his presence - and was informed the next night that he found himself missing her as well.

It was such a strange twisting of emotions. Neither hated the other, but they did not particularly like each other, either. He was an insufferable git most times, and she was constantly a goody-two-shoes, perfectionist mudblood. It was not so much a friendship or any kind of normal relationship between two human beings, then, but more like an unspoken agreement that they fulfilled each others needs in the most unexpected, but perfect, way.

This particular morning, Hermione found that she was incredibly cold. She curled into a ball, surprised that she never came into contact with Draco, and rolling over to figure out why. She found him sitting against the wall, a piece of parchment in his hand.

"Malfoy?" she said, slipping off of the bed and padding over to him.

"They want us next weekend," he said, not looking at her as she slid down next to him, pressing her arm against his and watching him cautiously. "My father just sent me a letter. The Dark Lord wants me to bring you to him to prove that I've completed the first part of my mission."

"Ok," she said, calmly. "We were expecting this to happen soon, weren't we? You sound surprised."

"I forgot," he shook his head. "I guess I just got so caught up in all of the learning and training that I… I forgot why we were doing it. I can't take you to him."

"Of course you can," she assured him. She hesitated for a moment, but reached out to put her hand on top of is. "This is what we've been preparing for. This is exactly why we've been working so hard."

"I don't think I can go back there," he said. He had not looked this defeated and wounded since that first night in the hospital. Hermione disliked having to watch him this way. He was the stronger of the two of them by far, so why was he the one being frightened and she was the one being entirely calm?

"We have to," she said. "We're both ready. If your level of Occlumency was sufficient before, then surely we will be impenetrable now. Besides, this is just the first meeting and I don't feel it's the one that we should be concerned about."

"This is not what I was asked to do," Draco said. "He'll immediately suspect that something is wrong."

"And we'll be completely prepared to prove him wrong," she said. "I will completely convince him that I want nothing more than to join his side. I'll offer him some valuable - but not entirely important - information about Harry or the Order, perhaps get a Dark Mark, and then we will come back to Hogwarts."

"How could he believe it?" Draco asked.

"How could he not?" she countered. "We'll be flawless. And, besides, he will be unable to resist this kind of power. He clearly knows much about this spell, and he will immediately understand the implications of our markings," she motioned to the black lines looping down her bare leg, stopping just above her knee. "You cannot fake this kind of power, Malfoy, and we both know it. There is no way that he will refuse to have the most powerful wizard and witched Marked and on his side of the war. He may be suspicious of us, but he will not be daft."

"How can you be so confident?"

"Because everything is in our favor," she said. "We have the ability of Occlumency, as well as the ability to tap into the highest concentration of both light and dark magic. With our confidence, brains, abilities, and powers, there is no way that he can deny us."

Draco sat the letter down in front of him, dropping his head into his hands. She reached out to smooth down his light hair and he turned to face her again.

"I can't ask you to do this."

"You didn't," she assured him.

"I can't ask you to risk your life for this."

"I'm not doing it specifically for you," she reminded him. "Remember? We're going to be war heroes. And you should also remember that you're risking your life, too. If he kills me, you're dead as well."

"I think I really have gone mad," he whispered.

"We don't have to go through with this," she said, quietly. "I can't, and won't, go without you."

"I don't know if I can bring you there," he said. "I don't know if I can condemn anyone else to my fate."

"You're not condemned. That's the entire point of this. It will just be temporary. We'll entwine ourselves in his world as much as necessary while keeping ourselves entirely grounded into the world that we'd rather be in. That's why there are two of us, and that's why we're bound together."

"You're not in too deep yet, Granger. You have my permission to back out at any time."

"And you have my promise that I won't."

"Perhaps you've gone mad, as well," he suggested, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

"It's nearly time for breakfast," she said, laying her head against his upper arm.

"Then I suppose I'll see you later?" he asked. "Today is Friday, and tonight is that silly dance, so we'll be meeting at midnight, correct?"

"Exactly," she nodded, pleased that he remembered. "I can't skip the dance tonight because Ron has agreed to take me. I won't stay any later than midnight, though."

"I'm sure they'll be pleased to have you around even that late," he said, smirking. "You've been spending an awful lot of time with your 'secret boyfriend' recently."

"Well, it is not my fault that he is so handsome and smart and such a devilish boy," she said, imitating his smirk rather accurately.

"You've gotten admirably good at that," he said, standing up and reaching out to help her do so. "You'll have to be careful not to do that around your darling Pothead and Weasels, or they'll figure out far more quickly that you're 'shagging' a Slytherin against their will."

She rolled her eyes, walking past him to her closet to pick out clothes for the day. "I'll see you at breakfast," she said. "And stop staring at my bum."

"It would be easier to stop if you would cover it up," he countered.

"It's nothing you haven't seen before," she shrugged.

"You sound quite promiscuous for such a virginal girl, Granger."

"Well, when one 'shags' Malfoys, one quickly becomes promiscuous." She smirked again, taking an armful of clothes and shutting herself in the bathroom, leaving him to let himself out.

She barely paid attention in her classes, writing notes to Harry or Ron through the ones that they joined her for. She found herself surprisingly relaxed throughout the day, realizing that everything that she had said to Draco this morning had not been made up. She did believe that they had an advantage and she did believe that they would be successful. She also believed that if they were both to make it through next weekend alive, that they would both need to take full advantage of the break from school and other students.

So instead of getting caught up in the fact that eight days from today she would be facing Lord Voldemort and his threatening panel of Death Eaters, she enjoyed her final day with her friends. She soaked in Ronald's jokes through every meal, and watched amused as Ginny and Harry shyly glanced at each other.

Harry had finally asked Ginny to the dance a few weeks ago, and Hermione heard of nothing but her raven haired friend whenever she and Ginny were alone. After their last class of the day, Ginny and Hermione retreated to Hermione's dorm room to get ready for the ball. Hermione found that she enjoyed the massive amount of gossip and girl talk that Ginny was pushing onto her as they worked with each others hair and makeup.

Ten minutes before the dance was supposed to start, Ginny helped zip Hermione's dress up and they checked their appearances one last time. The boys were waiting at the bottom of the stairs - Harry in a new set of dress robes, and Ron in a somewhat updated set - and they looked impressed.

Ron was an awkward dancer and stepped on her toes a few times, but she had a good time anyway. She danced once with Harry, and was asked to dance by three other housemates. It was relaxing to watch all of her classmates be so relaxed and jubilant. Sometimes it seemed that the impending war was all that anyone could think about. The dance, though, and the next few weeks away from school, proved enough of a distraction to take everyone's mind off of the more serious issues at hand.

As she hugged her three closest friends goodnight at the stairs to her common room, she found that she held on for a few more seconds than she normally would.

"We'll miss you," Harry told her.

"I'll miss you, too," she assured all of them. "A few of us had to stay, though. And you lot will have a good Christmas without me, anyway."

"It won't be the same," Ron said, sounding glum. "I had a good time tonight."

"I did, too, Ronald," she said, honestly.

She hugged Ginny last, whispering, "don't do anything that I wouldn't do while you're on break," before pulling away and winking at her redheaded friend.

"Same to you," Ginny responded, grinning widely. "I assume your secret boyfriend is staying here on break, as well?"

"Perhaps he is," Hermione answered, shrugging and smiling back. "Owl me every day," she said. They left her with promises to do just that, all saying goodnight and waving goodbye. The first trains home would leave in an hour. The students would all be able to sleep as they rode and arrive at the station in the morning, allowing them to use every day of their break from school to their advantage.

She walked up her stairs slowly, holding her dress and stepping carefully to avoid falling. She shut her door quietly behind herself and tossed her handbag onto her small couch, right next to the tall blonde boy who was seated there. He was wearing the finest dress robes she had ever seen, and his black shoes shone more than anyone else's had that night.

"I thought we'd watch a movie tonight," she said, turning her back to him and walking over to her closet. "I don't see the need to do anything but relax right now."

"It's your call, I suppose," he said.

She reached behind herself and easily unzipped her dark purple dress.

"It's a shame we couldn't dance together tonight," he said as she searched for a t-shirt, her dress slowly sliding off. "I think we deserved a dance and we're both still somewhat dressed up."

"Malfoys don't dance," she teased, turning to wink at him before stepping out of her dress and pulling a t-shirt over her head. "And I'm tired of this dress anyway."

"I can't complain about this attire, either," he said. "I'd dance with you either way."

"So do it," she shrugged. She picked her dress up off of the floor, turning her back on him again to hang it up. She was not surprised to feel his hand on her waist and turned around to look up at him.

"There's no music," he pointed out, taking her hand with his and holding it in a practiced ballroom position. His other hand moved to the middle of her back, fingers spread. He pulled her just a little bit, stepping backwards and then to the side and together.

"A waltz," she commented. "How classy."

He completed a few sets of three and even led her into a walk around turn, watching her smile widely.

"I've always loved proper dancing," she said, "but I'm terrible at it."

"You don't seem to be."

"Oh, I am," she said. "A few more seconds and you'll notice, which is why we should stop now."

He obliged, ceasing all movements. "Are you terrible at swaying?" he asked. She laughed lightly and shook her head. He let her hand go and put both arms around her, pulling her in closer. She moved her arms up around his neck and laid her head on his chest, letting him lead again as they swayed back and forth slowly. "This is my first slow dance," he admitted.

"You've been to hundreds of dances and balls, though, haven't you?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, "but I've never done this kind of dancing with a girl."

"It seems that somehow you've done a lot of unexpected things for the first time with me, Malfoy," she commented, looking up at him. "Watched your first movie, had your first sleepover with a girl, and now a slow dance? And you seemed to enjoy them all, too. Perhaps my girly nature is rubbing off on you."

"Hardly," he assured her. "But I would like to watch one of those movies again. It's been a while."

"Nearly a month," she agreed. She lowered her hands to his biceps and he let her pull away. "I'll set it up if you conjure some snacks and put on some pajamas. I'll met you on the bed in sixty seconds," she said, tapping his nose with her finger and turning away from him.

They laid on their stomachs, heads at the foot of the bed and feet at the head of the bed, with pillows tucked under their chins as they ate Draco's conjured popcorn and sipped orange juice - Hermione's favorite. Draco asked to watch "a scary movie" and Hermione had warily agreed. Fifteen minutes in to the movie she was already hiding her eyes.

"Ah, another weapon to use against you," he teased as she flinched during a jump scene. "Can't handle a bit of a scare, Granger?"

She glared at him through her fingers, sticking her tongue out. Towards the end of the movie, though, when the even scarier bits began to happen, she had completely flattened herself against his side, barely watching the movie, body tensed.

"Granger, it's just a movie," he said, sounding sincerely concerned.

"I know," she squeaked, hiding her eyes against his arm which she was clutching tightly.

"We didn't have to watch it, you know."

"I know."

"We could have watched another of those… chick flicks? Is that what you called them." She nodded briefly, keeping her head turned entirely away from the TV. He turned onto his side, facing her, and she did the same. "You're even desirable when you're frightened," he said, looking into her large brown eyes.

"Of course," she agreed, closing her eyes. "I can't watch anymore," she admitted. He grinned.

"So what else can we do that's relaxing?" he asked.

"We could just lay here and talk," she said. She reached for the controller to the TV she had conjured and turned the volume down.

"Talk about what?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, moving forward a little so that their knees touched. "Christmas is in four days."

"That it is."

"I have a present for you."

"And I have one for you."

"Oh," she said, surprised. Her eyes lit up with curiosity. "What is it?"

"I'm not going to tell you," he said, laughing. "You can have it on Christmas morning."

"Ok," she agreed. "I didn't even decorate a tree this year."

"We can, you know," he pointed out. "We could go find one tomorrow and bring it up to your room to decorate. If it's important to you."

"You want to decorate a tree with me?" she asked. "You do realize that I want to do it the muggle way, right?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "We can put our presents under it and pretend that Sandy Clause came."

"Santa," she corrected.

"Santa," he repeated. She nodded, and then yawned.

"It's so odd to not be going to the Burrow. I'm so used to being around so many different people all at once. It's overwhelming and it's frequently not the most pleasant environment, but it's normal for me."

"I never go home," he admitted. "I've always just stayed at school."

"Malfoy," she scolded. "Doesn't your family miss you?" He raised his eyebrows. "Well, ok. I would have missed you this year, though. If I had gone to the Burrow."

"This is going to be another first with Hermione Granger," he commented. "My first real Christmas."

"We should make cookies," she mused. "And we should go sledding."

"Don't get carried away," he warned. "I don't want to go into Christmas overload. Remember, it's my first time. Although there is a Christmas tradition that I've always been interested in."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Mistletoe," he smirked. "In fact, I think that there's some directly above our heads…"

"Wandlessly conjuring mistletoe so that I'll kiss you, Malfoy? That's very classy and completely unexpected." She rolled her eyes.

"I thought it was worth a shot," he shrugged. She grinned.

"I'll make you a deal, Malfoy."

"Oh, this should be good."

"I'll give in to your Christmas wish if you give into mine and go sledding with me tomorrow."

"Deal," he said, immediately. She laughed and scooted closer to him, straightening her legs out and placing her hand on his side to balance herself as she leaned in close to his face. He watched her eyes twinkle mischievously and was entirely surprised when she closed them and placed her lips onto his. She ran her tongue lightly along his lower lip as he moved his hand to the back of her neck and he could not hold back a gasp when she proceeded to bite his lip playfully.

"Too much?" she asked, lips still against his and clearly teasing.

"Never," he said, turning onto his back and rolling her on top of him. She let one leg fall on either side of him and giggled against his mouth. He was surprised when she didn't break the kiss but instead kissed him harder, one hand resting on his chest and the other curled around him, pulling him closer to her. He kept one hand on her neck and let the other rest on her lower back, just above the black, lace underwear that she was wearing, pulling her as well.

When she finally pulled away, a few minutes later, they were both breathing heavily. He opened his eyes and stared up at her, sure that his eyes were portraying the same mixture of emotions.

"You should stop being so good at that," he said, moving his hand to her jaw.

"You're the one that's good," she said, sitting up and beginning to take her hair down. He tried not to stare at anything but her face as she stretched her arms up and back to remove all of the pins and clips, but it was difficult to not try to catch glimpses of her skin when her t-shirt rode up.

"We could argue about this for hours," he said, "or we could both admit that we're good at kissing, and end this argument now."

"Fine," she nodded, reaching back and dropping her handful of hair things onto the table beside her bed and then shaking her curls loose. "But you're best."

"Because I've had practice," he said. "Your talent is all natural, remember?"

She laughed and rolled off of him, laying on her side again.

"We're at the wrong end of the bed for sleeping," she said, yawning.

"Sleeping is overrated."

"Sleeping is relaxing and wonderful," she disagreed, wiggling over to lay her head on his chest. "Besides, we've got a long day of Christmas things tomorrow and I'm suddenly very cold."

"Funny," he said, "I'm suddenly very warm."

"We make quite the pair," she said, moving suddenly towards the top of the bed and getting under the covers as best as she could with him laying on top of them. "If you're hot, I'm cold, and if I'm hot, you're cold."

"An unlikely duo," he agreed, following suit and getting under the blankets.

"Should I set an alarm for tomorrow?"

"Alarms are overrated."

"That's what I thought," she smiled. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

"Goodnight, Granger," he replied, laying on his side behind her, draping one arm over her hip and moving her closer to him. He laid awake for five or ten minutes, still reeling a bit from the kiss as he watched the lights from the TV screen on her cheekbones. She was breathing deeply a few seconds later and once he got his mind to stop racing, he soon followed her lead.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N

Ok, first I feel that I need to address 's questions: I didn't feel that it was necessary to show them getting closer together since I summarized the past month. I have a lot planned for the plot of this story, and continuing to go day by day through that entire month would have taken forever and would have gotten incredibly fluffy and boring. I tried to summarize their kind of odd relationship, as well, and stated that they're not exactly friends, but not enemies, either. They're just the only two people who know what they're going through. A pretty stressful reality check happened in this chapter, and I tried to make it obvious that they both think it's best for them to not focus on next weekend as much, and to have a relaxing night, so maybe that's where the confusion is coming in. I don't think that they're "lovey dovey," I tried to write it as them being comfortable with each other.

Also, they are not actually "dating" or "shagging," remember? They decided a chapter or two ago that if her friends started to pry into what was happening more, that they would use the excuse that they were "dating," but they are actually not - which is why I used quotations around the word "shag" in the last chapter. And the reason they don't call each other by their first names is because, as I said, they're not actually together yet. The kiss from the last chapter was only their second kiss.

I hope I answered all of your questions (: Sorry that I didn't do as well with the sarcasm about their 'dating' or expressing the oddities of their current relationship as I thought I did :P I really do appreciate all of these reviews, and I like to have my writing questioned so that I can more closely examine it (: This chapter is short, but short is better than nothing, I suppose. Merry Christmas (:

Chapter Eight

Hermione held Draco to his promise and the pair went sledding after breakfast the next morning. They had bundled up in warm coats and double layers of socks, gloves, and hats before grabbing sleds and marching through the knee high snow to find a hill. Draco grumbled about all of the walking that was required, but clearly enjoyed the adrenaline rush after they had reached the bottom of the hill, and talked her into going down the hill several more convinced her on their walk back that it would be more logical to simply conjure a tree instead of chopping one down; their hands and feet were chilled from the long walk to the hill so Hermione had no problem agreeing with him. When they got back to her dorm room - Draco spelling himself invisible once they got close to the school again - Hermione made him hot chocolate - another first - and they decorated the tree. It was a relaxing morning, and it had been a relaxing night last night, but halfway through decorating the tree, Hermione felt the nervous tension begin to build up between them again. After going to eat lunch separately with the few students remaining in their houses, they met in the Room of Requirements to begin training again and only stopped training and studying for a few breaks and to sleep for the next three days.

They frequently snapped at each other when they were tense and several times they reverted to the cruel name calling that had been absent in their daily banter for a few weeks. Draco lost his temper several times and Hermione matched his temper with outbursts of her own; they had spent an entire hour this evening screaming at the top of their lungs and then retreating to separate corners of the room to study spells quietly while shooting glares across the room at each other. Hermione's confidence had started to waver, especially when she caught a glimpse of the Mark on his hip when he removed his shirt before bed on this Christmas Eve night. In the minimal literature that she had found about the Mark, the most commonly emphasized facts were that it was incredibly painful, and entirely permanent. She found herself wondering where her mark would be and then researching anatomy books to try to locate the least painful places to put it. As she sat in bed beside him on Christmas Eve, re-reading an advanced spell book, the overwhelming realities continued to crash onto her, fading a way slowly, but only to come crashing back down again. Tonight was Monday and they were to arrive at Malfoy Manner at precisely nine p.m. on Friday night, dressed for the Dark Lord's twisted version of a "holiday ball." It was getting harder and harder to push all thoughts of Friday night out of her head as Friday kept slowly approaching.

She felt him watching her, but ignored him. He had pulled out his dirtiest insults during their row this afternoon, hurling them one after another. She couldn't even remember now what had started the argument, and guessed that he could not either, but she would not be the first to speak. She held her composure and kept her eyes on the pages in front of her, chanting the words in her head and trying to make sense of them.

In the end, neither of them gave in. He continued watching her until he could no longer hold his eyes open and she continued ignoring him until sleep took over her as well. She slept fitfully until three a.m. when she woke up suddenly, just in time to feel him slide his hand into hers.

She woke up at eight and didn't hesitate to slide quietly off of the bed, leaving a note for him on her pillow. She pulled on leggings, a large sweatshirt, and some slippers and slowly made her way to the Great Hall for Christmas breakfast. She took her time eating, unconsciously checking the spot where he usually sat. After what felt like an hour, she wandered back up to her room, curious to see if any presents had appeared from the Burrow.

There were presents under the tree, but what caught her attention was the blonde boy who was still snoring lightly in her bed. After debating for a moment about if crawling back into bed would be giving in, she decided that it certainly would be, and instead sat next to the tree and sorted her presents from his.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny had gone together to buy her a set of books that she had been eyeing, and Mrs. Weasley had knitted her a delightfully thick and warm scarf. Her parents had sent her a box which contained a few new clothing items, homemade chocolate chip cookies, and a box of her favorite candy.

She sat the last box on front of her on the ground, staring at the elegantly printed "To: Granger" written on its tag and on the envelope it came with. It was small and wrapped crisply; she imagined that he had probably paid someone else to wrap it. It looked harmless from the outside and she knew that her curiosity would inevitably win out, so she opened it.

The box looked very much like a jewelry box and she had to pause again to evaluate the implications of that. It was the size of a box that a ring or earrings would be in and she was not sure that she was obliged to receive either of those things from Malfoy. Curiosity won out again, though, and she opened the velvet box to reveal a beautiful metal ring. She noticed immediately that there were no diamonds which made her happy because it meant that he was not proposing on some entirely insane whim and because she did not particularly like flashy jewelry.

The ring was not in anyway romantic, either, which pleased her even further. It was delightfully beautiful, though. It was a miniature metal replica of the skull of some sort of reptile - she made note to research that later. At first she questioned if it was a piece of jewelry at all, but then she realized that her finger would fit perfectly through the mouth of the metal skull.

She then remembered the envelope and sat the box down so that she could read his letter to her.

_This ring has been infused with strong healing and protecting powers. Though my father and the Dark Lord required me to give you something of this nature, I did pick the ring out for you. The magic infused into it was mentioned in the book my father gave me: devoveo. Though it is not exactly what they requested of me, I hope you find it to be a suitable gift. Merry Christmas, Granger._

She read the note four times over, soaking in its meaning. The magic that he had put into this ring was incredibly powerful. It was so powerful that, according to the book, only one of them could use it. It would aid them both in regards to healing and protection, but its true power was to allow the wearer to be excluded from one part of the binding. As long as Hermione wore this ring on her finger, she would live. Even if Draco died.

She was so entirely caught up in shock that she didn't even notice him sit beside her and was startled when he said, "is it alright?"

"I can't take this," she said, immediately after recovering from her scare. "If anyone should have it, it's you."

"I can't use it. The decision has already been made, so either you must use it or neither of us can. I can't take the magic back out of the ring, and I can't use it for myself. I want you to have it, Granger."

"I can't," she whispered.

"You can," he assured her. "Consider it a leveling of the field. On Friday night you will be risking your entire life in an effort to save mine. The least I can do is assure that you are safe no matter how this battle ends."

She turned and picked the box up again, taking in the ring's intricacies. He picked it up after a few moments and took her right hand, as well. "It should fit perfectly on your index finger," he said. He did not move to put the ring on her hand, though, just sat patiently holding the ring in one hand, and her hand in his other.

"My Christmas present to you is terrible compared to this," she said, biting her lip. "It's so beautiful."

"You don't have to wear it all of the time," he said. "Just when it counts."

"The magic doesn't apply when I take it off, right?" she asked, looking him in the eyes. He nodded. "Ok," she nodded, too, "I'll put it on."

It slid onto her finger and fit perfectly - just as he had promised. An instant after it was on, they locked eyes again and began apologizing in tandem, neither seeming to care any more which one gave in first. When it all came down to it, he was the only person who understood what was happening to her right now and she was the only hope of salvation that he had.

He opened his gift from her: a bottle of firewhiskey, a DVD she had told him about at lunch a few days ago, and a new set of leather quiddich gloves. "It's perfect," he said, smiling. "And these are the nicest gloves I've owned, Granger."

"I heard Harry and Ron making a big deal about them this summer. I thought that you might already have a pair," she admitted.

"I've always thought that girls were shite and picking out presents," he said, "but you have redeemed my opinion of female gift-giving."

"Your first respectable present from a woman," she said, smirking proudly. "I've had the same opinion about males, though, and you blew all of their gifts out of the water."

"It's a bloody fantastic ring," he agreed. "It took several illegal and secretive trips to Hogsmede to find it."

"I got your presents entirely legally," she said. "Well, all but the firewhiskey."

"Which we should take part in tonight," he suggested.

"While watching your new movie," she agreed. "But first I've got to owl everyone a thank you."

They picked up the wrapping paper and boxes and then Draco went to his room to shower. As Hermione sat at her desk, trying to compose thank you letters, she found that her attention kept wandering to the ring on her finger and all of the implications that went along with it. Funny how the most thoughtful and perfect gift she had ever received was from Malfoy and - to top it all off - was a gift which he had given as a twisted kind of thank you.

A/N

Here is a link to a picture of the ring that I attempted to describe :)

www . etsy . com / listing / 62653964 / bronze-chameleon-lizard-skull-adjustable?ref=cat3_gallery_11


	9. Chapter 9

A/N

I originally had an extra page or two on the previous chapter, but it was all really fluffy and silly and did not further the plot, so I cut it out. This chapter is decently sized, though, so hopefully it will make up for the pages I cut out of the last one (:

As always, reviews and critiques would be really awesome. And I don't know if I've actually put this in a note yet - somehow it slipped my mind - but thank all of you wonderful people who read this story (: it's really encouraging to see the responses and the number of visitors (:

Chapter Nine

Friday at four p.m. all of the anxiety that had been building up inside of Hermione had almost completely overtaken her. She had slept peacefully through the night - and most of the day - but only because she drank a large amount of alcohol and chased it with a sleeping draught. Draco had watched her carefully all night as she bested her previous drinking records, and she had heard him whisper an anti-hangover spell for her as she was finally drifting off to sleep.

As soon as she opened her eyes, though, her mind began racing again. She did not have a headache and felt only slightly sick to her stomach, but she was immediately on edge. She quickly wiggled free of Draco's grasp and got off of his large bed, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. She had begun to feel distant from reality for the past couple of days because of the extreme tunnel vision that she had no control over. This would not work at all for tonight. She had to be able to control her emotions and right now she could hardly even control her motor skills. All of her joints ached and she had to actively remind herself to not clench her teeth together. She was a complete and loon right now.

"Granger?" Draco said, sleepily, rolling over suddenly when she accidentally stubbed her toe on his bed frame while looking for a pair of his pants to wear.

"I'm going to shower," she said, locating the silky, black pants and slipping them on. "I have a lot of preparing to do today."

"I'm not leaving you alone," he informed her. "You're a bloody wreck."

"I'm fine," she assured him, flashing an almost-convincing smile.

"Just take a shower here," he said, rubbing his eyes. She narrowed her gaze at him and he rolled his eyes. "I am not asking you to take a shower with me. If you're so insistent about going back to your own room, then I'll go with you, but I'm not leaving you alone today."

"Then I'll take a bloody shower here," she growled, yanking the pants back off and throwing them at him. "I swear to Merlin, if you open this door while I'm naked, I will hex you into next fall!"

She stormed into his bathroom and shut the door behind herself, leaning against it and running a hand through her hair. A wave of guilt washed over her and she was tempted to walk back out and apologize to him; she hadn't intended to yell at him and she knew that he was just watching out for her. Once her breathing slowed down, she took a quick shower and configured a clean set of clothes.

He sat up in bed when she opened the bathroom door and he watched her walk over to his couch and sit down.

"Promise you won't run away while I shower," he said, getting out of bed and walking towards the bathroom.

"Scout's honor," she mumbled, jiggling her knee up and down. When he was finished with his shower, he found her pacing back and forth slowly, running her hands through her hair to help it dry correctly.

"You need food," he said.

"Not hungry," she refused.

"You're going to pass out, Granger."

"I can take care of myself," she assured him.

"Oh, right," he said, "that's why you're going completely bonkers right now and literally pacing back and forth in my bedroom. I'm amazed you haven't worn through the carpet yet."

"I'm fine," she said. "I just need to go to my room and start getting ready. I have a lot to do before tonight."

"Yeah," he agreed, "like figure out how to calm yourself down."

"I'm going to use a spell," she said, as if it was obvious. "It has the effect of the muggle medication valium. It will calm me down."

"A spell won't fix you."

"It will temporarily," she said.

"For how many hours?"

"Six or seven," she said. "I'm going to wait until a few minutes before we get there."

"There's still time to back out," he said, pulling a t-shirt over his head.

"Fuck you," she replied, stopping her pacing to glare at him and enunciating each both words clearly. "I'm going to my room."

She was invisible a second later. He grabbed his wand and slid a pair of shoes on quickly, rushing out of his dormitory. Halfway to the Gryffindor wing he saw her become visible and then spelled himself invisible, following closely behind her and slipping in both the common room door and her bedroom door right behind her.

She refused to eat a single thing all day, but he did convince her to drink a few glasses of orange juice. He sat in her room, flipping through books while she styled her hair in five different ways before finally leaving it straightened. He had gotten a bit wrapped up in the book that he was reading when she was putting her make up on and did a double take when, at seven o'clock, he looked up to see the finished product. She flicked her eyes to his for a moment, as if trying to read his expression, but then got up from her chair and disappeared into her bathroom.

He took that opportunity to put on the dress robes that he had retrieved from his room earlier that day. Just as he finished tying his shoes, the bathroom door opened and Hermione walked out in her floor length black dress. It was one-shouldered and had a large cut out on the right side, showing off an extensive amount of her skin - and the tattoo which now covered the majority of the right side of her torso, twisting its way up and across her back to her left shoulder and upper arm. The dress was slit to mid-thigh on the right side and exhibited her leg which had black markings from the calf up. Her make up was heavy, but tastefully done, and her legs looked fantastic in the five inch heels she was wearing.

"Perfect," he said, unable to stop looking her up and down. She had asked him what kind of dress she should wear and he had mentioned something about making her markings visible. She had gone above and beyond his expectations. On some girls the dress would have looked over the top or perhaps a bit too suggestive, but Hermione managed to carry herself confidently and looked entirely sophisticated.

"When do we leave?" she asked.

"Now would be suitable," he shrugged, walking over to her. "Are you sure that you're ok?"

"No," she said, staring defiantly up at him, "I'm not ok. I'm not going to be ok until we are back at Hogwarts later tonight."

"We don't have to-"

"I swear to you I will use an unforgivable curse on you if you try to make me back out of this again, Draco Malfoy," she warned, eyes blazing.

"Ok," he nodded, putting a comforting hand on her arm. "Let's go find the tunnel to Hogsmede, then."

They spelled themselves invisible again and walked through the empty common room and out into the hallway, Hermione holding his hand and pulling him along beside her. The tunnel was a floor down and she located it easily. They walked in silence, eventually exiting into the cellar of Honey Dukes and then sneaking out of that store and onto the streets. It was eight thirty when they ducked into a dark alley and made themselves visible again, walking briskly to the spot where a carriage was waiting to take them to Malfoy Manor.

Once they were seated in the carriage, Hermione pulled out her wand and whispered the calming spell which would wear off in four to six hours. Her face immediately began to relax and Draco felt his own anxiety lessen at that sight. He had been on edge almost as much as she had, but his anxiety had all revolved around the ridiculously beautiful girl who was sitting across from him now.

"Malfoy," she whispered a few minutes later.

"Mmm?"

"Tell me that everything's going to be ok." She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and he felt something stir deep inside his very being. "I'm not backing out," she promised, shaking her head. "I just need to you to tell me it's going to be ok."

He moved over to sit next to her without a second thought and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "You're going to be fine," he promised. "You are completely capable of doing this and in just a few hours, tonight will be over and we can go home to Hogwarts. Tonight is going to go perfectly because we've made sure that it will, and in a few hours, you'll be safe in bed. I promise that I won't leave your side tonight, Granger."

She took a deep breath and pulled back from him, dabbing her eyes with a tissue that he produced from his robes. She muttered a spell to fix her red eyes and her makeup just as they pulled up to his family's estate. He took her hand in his and squeezed it once before getting out of the carriage. As she allowed him to help her out, her entire demeanor was instantly changed. She walked with perfect posture, never faltering and never turning to look at him as he led her into the Manor.

Hermione was awed by the inside of the Manor, but she kept her face emotionless and her head held high. A house elf took their coats immediately and Hermione did not allow herself to show any sorrow as the tiny creature scurried away, frightened. Lucius and Narcissa were standing a few feet from the door, dressed elegantly and watching their son and his female companion walk towards them.

"Mother, father," Draco greeted them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione said, matching his sophisticated tone.

"It is a… pleasure to have you in our home tonight, Miss Granger," Narcissa greeted, not reaching out a hand towards either of them. Lucius merely nodded, sneering just slightly and never breaking eye contact with her. "The guests are waiting in the ball room," Narcissa announced, slipping her hand into the crook of Lucius' arm and letting him lead her further into the house. Hermione and Draco followed a few feet behind.

The calming spell was working fantastically and Hermione easily suppressed each thought and emotion that she did not wish for as soon as they appeared. Draco turned to look at her a few times, but she kept her gaze focused elsewhere, and hoping that he would reign in his own anxiety in the next few seconds.

The ball room was large and ornate - as she had assumed it would be. There were nearly fifty couples, all seated at ten large, circular tables throughout the room. Lucius and Draco led their specific partners to the furthest table and Hermione's heart raced for just a moment when she saw the Dark Lord himself seated at the table. She had assumed that he would be dining with them, since she was one of the highlights of tonight's meeting, but seeing him in person was a frightening thing. Fear, though, was an acceptable emotion, so she focused on suppressing any unwelcome thoughts that the fear would bring out, but did not suppress it entirely.

The Dark Lord watched her as she sat in the chair Draco pulled out for her - the chair to Voldemort's immediate left - and smiled a somewhat demonic smile as he took her in.

"Miss Hermione Granger," he said, shaking his head as if in disbelief. "You have outdone yourself, boy," he said to Draco. "Not only did you bring me one of Harry Potter's closest allies, you managed to bring me the most intelligent witch of her age, if my sources are correct."

"Malfoy didn't 'bring' me here," she spoke up. A hush fell over the table, and spread to the other nine tables in this room. "Please stop me if this is bad timing, My Lord, but I feel it necessary that I place all of my cards on the table."

"What a confident little witch you are," he commented, his eyes gleaming wickedly. "And direct, as well. I thought we might enjoy a bit of dinner first, but, by all means, you have my undivided attention."

"I am here of my own will, My Lord," she said, looking him directly in the eyes and ignoring the obvious stares from every other being in the room. "I am here tonight to request to be Marked and to join your side for this impending war."

"That is a bold thing to ask of me," he said. "You are a Mudblood, of course."

"I am," she agreed, nonchalantly, "but, as you have mentioned, I am the most intelligent witch of my age. I also, as I'm sure you have noticed, have correctly completed the viniculum binding spell with the young Mr. Malfoy. I'm sure that I assume correctly that you understand the implications of this development."

"I do, indeed," he agreed, smiling that horrible smile again.

"With Draco and I on your side, you would clearly be the most powerful force in this war. There is no power stronger than the power that we have access to."

"And tell me, Miss Granger, why you have suddenly decided to change your loyalties?" he asked.

"Love," she answered, simply, turning to nod to Draco who managed to keep himself composed. She had prepared herself for this question, but she had not told Draco about what her answer would be. She had, in fact, only decided on the perfect answer a few days ago. It was perfect, though, because ultimately it was the truth. Though Hermione was not in love with him in the way she was implying, Hermione's unwavering love and optimistic hope for everyone around her was what got her into this entire situation. It was the most honest response that she could think of, and it was, in her opinion, the best. After all, wasn't it Lily and James' love for Harry which had protected him against Voldemort? It was just one more strength that the Dark Lord could use to his own advantage.

"Though I am the smartest witch of my age," she continued, "sometimes we have no control over who we fall in love with, My Lord. And love, as you well know, is one of the strongest forces on this earth. Sometimes it is even stronger than magic. I could not fight against him now, so the only option is to fight for him. If Draco is loyal to you, then I will be as well. There is no other option."

Voldemort observed her without saying a word. She had felt him burst inside of her thoughts several minutes ago, and she remained relaxed, knowing that he would only see what she intended for him to: the very real emotions of worry and support that she had felt while Draco was in the hospital, and images of his relaxing effect on her. She had even carefully altered their very first kiss, allowing the confusing and strong feelings that she had felt on that day to be seen by the Dark Lord.

She knew now, without a doubt, that he would be entirely convinced. Hermione did love Draco to some extent because she loved everyone around her unconditionally. It was not hard to alter the strong way that she cared about his health and his wellbeing so that it portrayed a more romantic kind of love. It had been the perfect solution.

When Voldemort finally slithered his way back out of her thoughts, the look in his eyes told her everything that she needed to know. She had been successful. He stood up, taking a champagne glass with him, tapping a fork against it to get the already undivided attention of everyone on the room.

"I am sorry to interrupt our dinner, dear friends," he said, "but it seems that our guest of honor is far more eager to join us than we had ever hoped." He smiled dreadfully down at her. "Dinner, then, will be postponed until after our planned ceremony for the night. It will be a celebration," he said, looking entirely pleased with himself, "for our newest Death Eater."

_)$_)_)_$_)_%)_)$^_$)^_$)&_)$^_)%_)$_)_)_!)!_)_)%_)

Draco and Hermione did not get back to Hogwarts until four a.m. Hermione had held up the façade perfectly through the cruel ceremony - which they were both actively trying to push out of their minds now - and had somehow held back any indication of the severe pain that she was in throughout the rest of the night of "celebration" for her.

Once they were back in the carriage, she had curled up on the seat, resting her forehead on her arms and crying softly the entire way back to Hogsmede. Draco was at a loss for how to comfort her, but he sat beside her the entire way with one arm around her shoulders. He offered a minimum of ten times to carry her or levitate her back to school, but she refused adamantly every time, walking the entire way back without even stopping. He knew the kind of pain she was in - he had felt it just over a month ago - and he felt an overwhelming sense of respect for her in those moments.

When he shut his bedroom door, she had already disappeared into the bathroom. She stayed there for nearly an hour with the shower running. When she came out in her usual sleeping attire, hair dripping and makeup completely rinsed off, she handed him a package of gauze.

"I can't get it on properly," she said, her voice weak. She had been Marked on the right side of her back on her shoulder blade, in a place where the tattoo was unexplainably absent.

"Lay down," he said. She pulled her t-shirt over her head gingerly, and laid down slowly. Her movements made him wince; even the slightest motions seemed to cause her massive amounts of pain. After he had dressed her wound, he murmured a few pain spells for her joints and muscles, and wished desperately that there was any kind of spell that would relieve the pain from her Mark.

She moved under the blankets and laid on her left side, holding the gold pillow close to her chest and wincing intermittently. He laid on his right side, facing her, and took one of her hands in his, letting her squeeze it when the pain got too intense.

"I don't know what to say to you right now," he whispered, breaking an awkward silence. "I don't know how to say what I want to. You were… brilliant. Flawless."

"I try," she said, weakly attempting sarcasm.

"I'm serious," he assured her. "And your answer to his question… I couldn't have come up with anything more fitting."

"It's just something else that he lacked," she said, brushing it off. "And it was an honest emotion that I could convey to him clearly to convince him that I would be loyal. It wasn't too hard to turn my general worry and concern for you into something stronger for him to see."

"Granger, I…" Draco had never had this much trouble finding words to say. "I felt something confusing today. In the carriage."

"Ok," she answered, looking skeptical.

"When you looked at me, when you were… sad," he said. "I felt… It felt so terrible," he fumbled. "I don't know how to explain it."

"Malfoy, are you going insane again?" she asked, only partially teasing.

"No, it's just that I…" he closed his eyes, still searching for the right words. "Damn it all, Granger, I think that I really… I really c-care about you."

He opened his eyes and watched her even expression as he mentally kicked himself for actually saying that out loud. She obviously cared about him to some extent, but she was Hermione Granger, and it was in her nature. He had never experienced anything like this before and, to be quite honest, he was scared half to death about what it meant. Seeing her sitting there crying, though, and watching her in pain tonight had nearly torn him in two.

"I've never done this before," he told her after a few moments. "I've never… cared… about anyone like this before."

"An alien has abducted you," she stated, seriously. When she looked in his eyes, though, she could see that something was different.

"You needed me today," he said. "When you were upset, you needed me and trusted me, just like I've needed you and trusted you all of this time. I've been telling myself for the past month that you're obviously this strong, confident, self sufficient person, and you honestly are. But today you needed me and it felt… good. No one has ever relied on me like that."

"It's not half bad being a good person," she told him and then suddenly winced again from the pain.

"Like that," he said, squeezing her hand. "I can hardly stand to watch you right now."

"So leave," she said, staring at him.

"No, no," he shook his head. "That wasn't my point. It's just that… I would take this for you right now if I could. I've never wanted to do that for anyone before. Not even my parents. I would gladly relive all of the pain again, though, if it meant that you wouldn't have to feel what your feeling right now. Am I going insane, Granger?"

"I think," she whispered, only partially joking, "that you're becoming human."

"And I think that it might not be as bad as I thought it would be," he said, smiling a surprisingly shy and unconfident smile.

"You're not so bad when you're like this," she said. "I like you much better human."

"And I like you much better just… in general," he agreed. "Does this mean that we're friends?"

"I don't know what it means," she yawned and then winced a little. "And I'm too tired to figure it out right now."

"Ok," he nodded. "Should I… can I still hold you tonight?"

She nodded, her eyes drifting closed. He crawled around her to the other side of the bed and laid down next to her, putting a smaller pillow in between his chest and her back before draping his arm over her.

"Malfoy," she said, once they were settled in. "Why didn't they hurt me as much as they hurt you?"

"Voldemort didn't do that to me," he said. "My father did."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I just assumed that -"

"Granger," he cut her off. "It's alright. It's over now."

She nodded, dropping the topic. She moved her arm slowly, lining it up against his and placing her hand over his hand on her stomach. "Good night, Malfoy," she whispered.

"Good night, Granger," he whispered back, putting his forehead against the back of her skull. The smell of her slightly damp hair was the last thing he registered before he fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N

Horray, another chapter! After this chapter, things are going to really start changing. As I've said before, this story has a pretty large plotline, and it's about to start picking up, so prepare yourselves ;) There's some fluff in this chapter, but I feel it's justified, so enjoy it, I suppose :)

Not sure how quickly the next chapter will be up, but it won't be longer than a few days. It just depends on how motivated I am to write more :)

Oh, and thanks a million for all of the reviews so far! I'm finally up to fifty ;)

Chapter Ten

Hermione did not get out of bed until the morning of December 31st. She slept for all but a few hours of that time, and Draco did not once leave the room. He conjured food, and spent his time watching movies - after a solid hour of trying to figure out how to run all of the machines - or reading more of the books that she had gathered. He had far too much time in silence to think about everything that had happened, so he tried to keep himself busy.

It did not work, though. He caught himself countless times staring blankly at a page in a book, or just watching the shapes of characters on the screen, caught up in thinking about it all. No more than six weeks ago he had been hopeless and powerless, caught with no way out and ready to accept his future. Now, though, one of his enemies had helped him turn the tables on everyone. Now that Hermione was Marked and they were bound together, they held all of the power in their hands.

Hermione, Hermione, Hermione. It all came back to her. She was the one who had changed everything with her stubborn notions and her impossible optimism. To this day, he was still not entirely sure why she had been the one that he reached out to on that day, but he was eternally grateful that he had. He found himself worrying most about what he had said to her before she had fallen asleep on Saturday morning. He was not lying when he said he had never cared about anyone in this way before. He would protect his parents to an extent, and had never sincerely wished death on them, even through all of their most terrible moments. That was not what he had felt - and was continuing to feel - for Hermione, though.

Draco had never had any true friends. He had cronies and admirers because of his father's position of power and he had been with countless females, but they were all replaceable and he had been, to some extent, replaceable in their eyes. He had never known anyone quite like Hermione. Even some of the nicer people he had come across had not been as recklessly optimistic and insanely positive as she was. It was like some kind of hilarious joke that Hermione Granger had been the one to break into his life at its darkest moment. It seemed almost cruel that Hermione Granger would be the first person that he would ever care about. But it didn't matter what it seemed like, what mattered was that he did care about her, for some insane reason.

When she woke up on that morning with an obvious lack of the delirious and distant look that had been present in her eyes for a few days, he could not have been happier. She sat up abruptly, waking him up immediately as she shot up out of his arms.

"How long have I been asleep?" she asked, turning to look down at him with wide eyes.

"A couple of days," he responded.

"So today is?"

"The thirty first," he said. "New Year's Eve."

"Merlin," she breathed. "It still hurts a bit, but not as bad."

"It'll be another couple of days before the pain goes away," he said, quietly.

"Everyone will be back in a few days," she said. "I feel like we didn't even get a break."

"We didn't," he agreed, sitting up beside her and rubbing his eyes. "We worked our bloody arses off for that damn Mark that's on your back, now."

"And it was entirely worth it," she said.

"I've been thinking," he said, "that we should tell someone now. Now that we've completed the most difficult part of our plan."

"This is not the most difficult part," she argued, turning towards him.

"It was the most important, though," he said. "I think that we should tell Dumbledore or… or the Order. Someone."

"Why are you the one arguing for this, Malfoy?" she asked. "Of the two of us, I would be the most likely to want to go running to someone else for backup."

"It's not for backup," he shook his head. "I just feel like we should tell them."

"No," she shook her head. "If you want to go, you can. But I will not go with you. We can do this by ourselves, Malfoy. Dumbledore or the Order cannot help us gain any more power. We passed beyond the range of their knowledge in our first week of training, Malfoy. It will be easier to keep our cover intact if we don't tell them."

"But how will you keep lying to your friends?" he asked. "I may be just learning about this whole giving a shit about other people thing, but I don't think that I could lie to you about something this serious, and I've only really known you for a month and a half."

"If I tell them, it will only make it harder," she said, shaking her head. "They won't understand and they won't trust me. I'm the one who does the thinking, not the one who executes the plans, remember? They know that I'm smart, but they would doubt me. I know them all well enough to know that. And the reason that they would doubt me is because I chose you as my partner. They'll never be able to understand this, Malfoy."

"Whatever this is," he said.

"I am really, really hungry," she said, changing the topic as her stomach grumbled loudly. Draco laughed and dropped the conversation. She was probably right, anyway, he decided. Maybe he had suddenly had the urge to suggest it because he had thought that was what she would want to do. He decided to stop thinking about it, though, and to stop thinking about everything else, as well. What mattered right now was that Hermione was alive and safe, and would soon be headed out of his door.

"Wait a minute," he called, jumping out of bed and looking for a t-shirt.

"We can't go down together," she reminded him.

"We can just eat in here," he countered. "We've both missed breakfast the past couple of mornings, anyway."

She sighed and sat down the jacket of his that she had begun putting on. "I want some pancakes," she said, walking over and falling forwards onto her stomach on his bed. "With chocolate chips."

He conjured two platefuls and carried them over to her. "We couldn't eat breakfast together down there, anyway," he said, watching amused as she began to devour her pancakes.

"We need to talk about that," she said, after swallowing a few large bites. "This is something that we apparently did not consider. The Slytherins will know that we're together, now. Or at least your crowd will. Pansy, Blaise, Knott, Crabbe, Goyle… they were all there that night. They all heard my little speech to Him about how in love we are, or whatever."

"So then we can eat breakfast together," he shrugged.

"No," she shook her head. "The Gryffindors don't know."

"So we'll tell them."

"Right," she said, sarcastically. "We'll just walk into my common room when everyone gets back from classes and you can plant a huge kiss right on my lips. They'll be so surprised and joyful about it."

"It's going to get out," Draco said. "Pansy has never been able to keep her mouth shut, and this is priceless, once in a life time gossip."

"My friends are going to hate me," she said.

"Which is why you should just tell them," he said.

"No," she shook her head. "I won't tell them all of it. I guess if they disown me then I'll at least have some very realistic proof for the Dark Lord that shows how I betrayed all of my friends."

Draco sighed. She was impossible and infuriating sometimes. The most infuriating part of it all, though, was that she was making sense.

"Pansy could tattle about the mark," Draco said, suddenly concerned.

"Let her talk," Hermione shrugged. "People are going to assume that I've switched sides anyway once they find out that I'm 'dating' the Slytherin Prince."

"But what about your friends?"

"It's an inevitable and unfortunate outcome," she said, "but not one that I have not prepared myself for. I would rather them hate me until this war than ruin our shot at keeping them alive."

"Granger," he said, trying to find the words to knock some sense back into her. "Maybe you need to sleep some more. I don't think you're thinking clearly."

"I'm thinking clearly," she said, adamant. "I told you, Malfoy, that I have been considering all of the possible outcomes of my decision since the night that I offered this to you. I haven't backed out so far, have I? I just pledged my service to one of the most frightening people in the wizarding world for this. My friends might hate me for a while, but when the war is over and they're still alive and it's all because I teamed up with you, they'll find a way to forgive me."

"And until then?"

"What about until then?" she asked.

"What will you do without them?" he clarified. "You've been best friends for years. You fought trolls together and broke all kinds of rules. Don't you need them?"

"I'm stronger than everyone thinks," she said, shrugging off his comments. "I'm just as stubborn and confident as any of them and I can do this by myself. Well, by myself with your help because I kind of need you for my powers to work."

"What about if something terrible happens?" he asked. "What if there's another night as stressful and awful as Friday night?"

"I survived that just fine, didn't I?" she pointed out.

"You were a wreck."

"And now I'm just fine," she retorted. "I don't see what you're getting at with this, Malfoy."

"Don't you care about them?"

"Yes," she said, exasperated, "and that's exactly why I'm doing this. I know that I can and I know that we'll be successful. I also knew that I'd have to make sacrifices, so if I have to push my three best friends away for however long it takes to win this war, then I will gladly do it.

"You stayed by my side just like any of them would," she went on. "You calmed me down when I was upset and you were there every single time that I woke up the past couple of days. You were there when I needed you, just like they are."

"I don't know how to do this," he said, pushing a piece of food around his plate.

"Do what?"

"Be a friend or whatever it is that we are right now."

"But you already are," she said. "Maybe we're not the most conventional kind of friends, but you're there when I need you, and I'm there when you need me. In the end, that's all that really matters. Just because it happened because of some silly binding spell and just because you, quite literally, need me around to survive, does not negate the fact that we have successfully been supporting each other for over a month now."

"So we're friends," he clarified.

"Sure," she shrugged. "Although, to Hogwarts we're now going to have to be a couple."

"I've never actually dated a girl before," he said.

"And you're not actually dating one now," she pointed out.

"Right," he agreed. "Just sleeping with her every night and sometimes making out."

"Exactly," she said. "We're weird-somewhat-friends-with-benefits."

"Are we the kind of friends who are going to kiss at midnight tonight?" he asked.

"You'd be my first for that," she said, putting down her empty plate and leaning back on her hands.

"You'd be my first midnight kiss, too," he said. "We should practice, anyway, for making out in the hallways while we're fake dating."

"I'm pretty sure that we already established that neither of us needs any practice with kissing."

"Practice makes perfect, though," he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes and let herself fall backwards and then immediately wincing. "Ouch," she hissed. "I keep forgetting about that damned Mark."

"What should we do today?" he asked, sitting the plates on the table beside his bed.

"Figure out our next move?" she asked.

"We don't really have one," he said. "Now that we're in, it's just a waiting game, isn't it? We can keep building up our powers, but I don't think that we should put in as many hours as we have been. Beyond that, though, all we can do is listen for our orders and then decide what to do once we get them."

"I guess so," she sighed, drumming her fingers on her stomach. "Then I vote that we don't leave this room until classes start again. We'll finish reading our stacks of books but take lots of study breaks to relax."

"We should wait until your back is completely healed to try any new spells, though," he said.

"Agreed," she nodded. "We do need to come up with a story, though."

"A story?"

"About how we got together," she clarified, sitting up again after failing to find a comfortable position. "That owlery story that we came up with earlier was shite, and I am not going to be played off as some spineless twat who fell head over heels for your good looks like everyone else did. You wouldn't be 'dating' me if I was, would you?"

"That's a good observation," he said.

"So what do we tell them?"

"The truth," he said. She rolled her eyes and he continued, "A variation of it, anyway. It's the only way that we could have become friends, isn't it? I was in the hospital wing, you just happened to be there to care for me, I begged you to stay and talk to me because I was having a weak moment, and the rest is history. We fell madly in love, or some shite like that."

"It's almost as perfect as my response to Voldemort," she complemented.

"And that's exactly why they'll believe it," he said. "Besides, why wouldn't we date? Besides the blood difference - which it is clear that neither of us care about - we're the two strongest, smartest, most conniving and confident students of our generation. We're a power couple, and not just because we used some binding spell to give ourselves all of that power. Besides, we're both insanely attractive. We've got everything going for us."

"We really do, don't we?" she said, cocking her head to the side and smiling. "I mean, we managed to complete viniculum, we haven't killed each other yet, and we've got the entire world at our fingertips right now. Maybe we're going to have to stoop down and do some uncomfortable things our way to the top - like Dark Marks and loosing a few friends - but we're really getting somewhere, Malfoy."

"We really are," he agreed.

"So," she said, placing her hands on her knees, "shall we begin studying?"

He walked to the other side of the room and picked a book for each of them, handing one to her along with parchment and a quill. They both started reading immediately and barely stopped until much later that night. Hermione's book was a perfect solution to their waiting problems as a few of its chapters outlined strategies for tapping further into their developing powers. Though they had been picking up complicated spells at a very fast rate, this book hinted that the powers that they had access to went so far beyond magic spells. It spoke of energy surges and other grandiose possibilities that had Hermione's mind racing. Her hurried and small hand writing had filled up nearly an entire scroll by the end of the day.

When Hermione finished her book - just as Draco was nearing the last twenty pages of his - she sat it down and picked up his notes, scanning them quickly. The book he had picked seemed to be even more detailed than hers had been about tapping into the powers and she found that she was annoyed that she had spent an entire day reading a book when Draco spent his day reading a more descriptive version of hers.

It was nearly ten when Draco sat down his book and looked at the clock. "I almost forgot," he said, jumping from the bed and hurrying to his closet.

"What are you doing?" she asked, following close behind him.

"Champagne," he said, producing a bottle and two glasses. "This is what muggles do on New Year's, isn't it?"

She smiled widely. "It's perfect," she said. "Too bad we don't have a TV to watch the ball drop."

"Oh, right," he said. "In… Times Square? Isn't that where that big sparkly ball usually drops at midnight?"

"Where did you learn all of this?" she asked, surprised.

"I got a book from the library," he said, "on muggle traditions. I thought that it would be nice to make New Year's as normal as possible, since you're away from all of your friends and family this year."

"Not all of them," she shook her head, smiling at him. "I apparently decided to stay with one of my most thoughtful friends this year. This is perfect, Malfoy."

"I got some other stuff, too," he said, handing her the bottle and glasses. He rummaged through his closet again and turned back around holding some party hats and noise makers. "These were much harder to find, but I paid off one of the muggle students who stayed this break to help me find them a few days ago."

She shook her head in disbelief. Draco Malfoy doing New Year's Eve the muggle way? They settled back onto his bed, dropping their finished books on the ground. Hermione suggested a DVD to watch and was surprised when Draco offered to put it in - and succeeded.

"I've been watching movies while you were asleep," he said, looking proud. He located the play button easily, and even managed to turn the subtitles on for her - a habit that she had picked up from her parents. Hermione conjured some popcorn and they sipped their champagne, laughing through the story line.

"I like this one," he commented when they were almost at the end.

"It's one of my favorites," she agreed. "He's so dismal and depressing and she's so overly confident and terrible at dealing with her emotions. They fit each other so well."

In the movie, it was New Year's Eve, also - which is why Hermione had picked it - and the female lead was at a party with a blind date. The male lead was wandering around the streets when he realized that he wanted to be with her.

"This is my favorite line," she whispered, smiling at the screen as the male lead ran into the party and confessed his love just as the clock turned to midnight.

"It's almost midnight here," Draco commented, pointing to the countdown timer that he had created.

"Twenty seconds," she said.

"Should we start counting now?" he asked.

"Not until ten," she said. They both watched the clock eagerly and then counted backwards from ten in unison until they reached "one!"

"Happy New Year's, Hermione," Draco said, turning to smile at her. She bit her lip, gazing into his eyes for a moment as she realized that he had used her first name, and then leaned in for her very first kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve. He wrapped his arms around her, and she followed suit, giggling as they spilled champagne on each other.

"Happy New Year's, Draco," she said when she pulled away. She brought her now mostly empty glass back in front of her and he did the same. "A toast," she said, "to a successful and wonderful year."

"To us," he said. They clinked their glasses together and downed them.

At the end of the night, they fell asleep in each others arms in the middle of a movie, a few champagne bottles and empty glasses scattered across the bed, and smiles on their faces.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N

To begin: major props to Jade2099 for catching the When Harry Met Sally :D I was wondering if anyone would notice that. It's one of my favorite movies. And also, thanks to everyone for the favorites and watches and reviews :D I'm still somewhat disappointed by the alarming difference between the amount of people who are watching me and the amount of reviews I'm getting, but I'll take what I can get : )

I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. I still have a few details of the general plot to work out, so I don't want to jump into it too quickly and choose the wrong situations and events. This chapter will be a little shorter, but not too much. Hopefully it will be just as good, though : )

Read! Enjoy! Review!

Chapter Eleven

Draco woke up cold and alone on the morning that all of the students would be returning. It was the first morning in a long time that Hermione had not been in his bed. When he sat up and noticed that his bathroom door was wide open, and that she was not anywhere else in the room, he started to worry. Where had she gone? Then, though, he looked down at her pillow and found the note.

_Going to shower in my own room and enjoy my last morning with my friends before word gets out. I'll find you later. _

_- H_

He wished that she had at least woken him up before she left. He didn't like feeling as off as he felt right now. Perhaps he had adopted some of her need for consistency and organization. He didn't care if she had a valid reason for leaving or not, he still bloody missed her. He crumpled up her note and laid back down, cursing Granger and her damn brown eyes and delicious lips. If she wasn't so irresistible and perfect then he wouldn't be laying here in his bed like a pathetic girl, feeling rejected and unappreciated.

In a weak moment, he rolled onto his side and grabbed the gold pillow that she had been holding, laying it next to his face and breathing in her scent. Just as he started to fall asleep, though, his bedroom door opened and then shut. A red faced and tear streaked Hermione came stumbling towards his bed, taking the pillow from him and laying down beside him silently.

"Grang- Hermione?" he asked, cautiously.

"They already knew," she mumbled in a gravelly voice. "Everyone that was on the train knows."

He didn't know what else to say, so he opted to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. She nuzzled her warm, wet face against his neck as she sobbed softly.

"It was stupid of me," she said. "Of course they knew. That damn Pansy Parkinson has the biggest mouth, and so do half of the other girls in this school."

"What did they say to you?"

"Exactly what I expected them to, but that I hoped they wouldn't" she sniffled. "They told me I was making a mistake, that I had no idea what I was doing. They told me that you didn't actually c-care about me and that I should just end it now before I g-get hurt."

He rubbed her back gently - because that was what the men in her movies did when women were upset - and tried to think of something comforting to say.

"I thought that maybe they would accept it," she said, quietly. "I thought that they might support me and give me the benefit of the doubt. I'm not daft, you know," she sniffled again.

"Of course you're not daft," he assured her.

"And now the H-headmaster wants to see us," she said, staring a new round of tears.

"When?" he asked, suddenly alarmed.

"F-fifteen minutes," she cried.

"Then we need to get up and go," he said, helping her sit up. "Come on. We'll go wash your face off and calm you down. We don't want to be late to a meeting with Dumbledore when it's about something this serious."

"How is our fake relationship serious?" she asked, still sobbing a little. He led her into the bathroom and located a washcloth, handing it to her.

"If I know Dumbledore, he knows about a lot more than just our relationship," Draco said.

"You didn't tell him, did you?" Hermione asked.

"No," he assured her. "But no one ever has to tell him these things, do they? He knew when I was Marked. He came and talked to me."

"Everyone in school pretty much figured out what had happened to you," she pointed out, washing her face off halfheartedly. There was a knock on Draco's door and he left her to see who it was.

"There's someone here to see you," he called.

"Who on earth would come traipsing through the Slythering dorms to see me?" she mumbled, throwing down her washcloth and hurrying to the door. "Oh," she said when she spotted the dark haired boy. "Harry."

"'Mione," he answered, smiling lightly. "Can we talk?"

She looked up at Draco, as if asking him for an answer, but then decided for herself. "I've got to meet with Dumbledore first," she said. "Wait for me outside of his office?"

"Sure," Harry nodded. He stepped forward awkwardly, eyeing Malfoy for a moment, and gathered his friend into a hug. "I'm not mad," he whispered into her ear, starting a new round of relieved tears. "You're smart, 'Mione. Smarter than anyone gives you credit for. I trust you, OK?" She nodded, giving him one last squeeze before letting him go. "I'll be waiting for you."

"Ok," she nodded, smiling sadly at her best friend.

"I thought that-" Draco started to say after Harry had left.

"It was Ron and Ginny," Hermione told him, shaking her head. "Harry wasn't there when they confronted me."

"Well, at least you have one person on your side," he said. "Are you ready?"

She wiped the tears off of her face again, sniffled, and then nodded. "As I'll ever be, I suppose."

The walk to Dumbledore's office was quiet and tense as they both mulled over the possible outcomes of this meeting. Dumbledore was waiting at his desk, looking only the slightest bit solemn.

"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy," he greeted. "Please sit."

They each took a seat facing him. Hermione clasped her hands tightly together in her lap, waiting nervously.

"I have not called you here to punish you, Miss Granger," Dumbledore assured her. "In fact, I want to congratulate you both for many things. Your perfectly timed friendship is one of them, dear children, for we all know that the wizarding world could use your unity now more than ever. The second congratulation is for your successful completion of the vinicilum binding spell," he said, eyes twinkling.

"And the third," he continued, "is for your very bold plan to end this war. I know that your intentions were that I not find out, but, alas, there is not much that happens in this school that I am not aware of," he smiled. "You two will be the tie-breaker in this war between good and evil. A tie-breaker that we desperately needed. Though Harry has always been strong, he is but one person and was always meant to walk alone at the end of it all. You, however, have each other and will never have to walk alone again. It's the perfect solution. I wish I had thought of it myself," he chuckled.

Draco caught Hermione's eye for a moment and they both returned their attention to the old wizard.

"Now, though, I fear that I must intervene minutely," Dumbledore said. "You are by now aware of Severus' involvement as a sort of 'double agent' for the Order and the Dark Lord, correct?" they both nodded. "I feel that it is not safe for the two of you to remain in Hogwarts, and I have asked Severus to suggest to the Dark Lord that you be removed from the school and placed in a safer location."

"But Headmaster," Hermione protested, "isn't Hogwarts the safest place for us?"

"I'm afraid not, my dear," he answered, sadly. "Hogwarts has always been considered a haven for those who are good and light. Though you are still those things at heart, Miss Granger, the mark on your back would suggest otherwise. I cannot protect you from what will happen when you are both, inevitably, confirmed to be Death Eaters. Protecting you would mean alerting the Dark Lord to my involvement in this plan, and in order for it to be executed correctly, I must have no involvement at all."

"Then where are we going?" Draco spoke up.

"I do not know, dear boy," Dumbledore shook his head. "No one will know but the Dark Lord himself. It's the only way to ensure your safety. I'm sure you will be receiving some notification about it by the end of today."

"And what will the students be told about it?"

"You'll be treated as missing," Dumbledore said.

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Hermione stopped Draco right before they exited back into the hallway.

"I want to tell Harry," she said, looking up at him.

"Ok," he nodded. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"He trusts me, so I feel like I can trust him," she said. "Besides, we'll be leaving soon, anyway. I need one of them to know."

"I'll go back to my room, then," he said. "Come and find me afterwards?"

"Of course," she nodded.

When they exited the room, Harry and Draco nodded to each other and Draco strolled away towards his common room.

"I brought you a coat," Harry said, holding out one of his own. "I thought it would be nice to walk outside."

"Sounds perfect," she said, taking it and sliding it on. It smelled like Harry's cologne and she smiled. He led the way to the front doors of the school and they shuffled their way through the snow, headed towards the frozen over lake.

"So, I don't know how much you'll want to tell me," he began, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "but I thought I would at least offer to listen. It's more than they offered," he said, shooting her an apologetic look.

"They're both terrible at controlling their tempers," Hermione offered. "I'm trying not to take it too personally."

"They'll come around eventually," he agreed. They reached a bench and Harry dusted the snow off of it. "Want to sit down?"

"I've missed you, Harry," she said, sitting down next to him.

"I've been here," he said, and then whispered spell that would keep them warm. "You're the one that's been distant."

"I know," she tapped the toes of her shoes together. "Harry, I have a lot that I need to tell you, but I'm not sure that I should."

"I'll understand if you don't," he said. "But I would tell you."

"It's going to sound so bad, though," she said, biting her lip. She looked into his green eyes and tried to memorize the little details of them. This would be the last time that she would see him until after the war, she assumed.

"We've done a lot of questionable things, 'Mione," he said. "We've broken all kinds of rules, and we did it all for good reasons. I know that whatever you did that you're so worried about telling me, you did for a good reason."

She breathed in a shaky breath and nodded. "It all started the day that they took him out of potions class," she began. They sat on the bench for nearly two hours as Hermione recounted every important detail, trying to give him every reason to keep trusting her. When she was finished - after telling him every single facet, including the part about how she would be disappearing soon - he asked to see the tattoo and the Mark.

"They're both on my back," she said, gauging his expression for a moment before turning and pulling her shirt up. She felt his fingers on her back a moment later and she waited through the painful silence for his response. "I'm so sorry," she finally said, letting her clothing cover it again as she turned back to him.

"No," he shook his head, reaching out to take her hand. "'Mione, I'm so sorry that I wasn't here. I wish you had talked to me sooner."

"Would you have talked me out of it?" she asked.

"At first," he nodded. "I can't… I don't know what to say right now."

"I'm prepared for anything," she assured him, smiling weakly. "I understand that I'm putting you in a bad position."

"It's just…" he closed his eyes, searching for the right words. "It's.. relieving."

"What?" she asked, surprised.

"I wouldn't wish this stress on anyone," he said, "but it's just such a relief to know that it's not all on my shoulders anymore."

"Ron and I were always there with you, though," she said.

"I know," he nodded. "But in the end, it was all going to come down to me. An entire war was on my shoulders. Now, though, there are three of us."

"A not entirely golden trio," she said. "So you don't hate me for doing it?"

"How could I?" he asked. "And the fact that you're not actually shagging Malfoy is a huge relief."

She smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm going to miss you while I'm gone, Harry."

"I know," he said, leaning his head onto hers. "I have to tell you something, too, though."

"Oh?"

"Ron and I will be leaving soon to help Dumbledore find the rest of the horcruxes."

"Does Ginny know?"

"No," he shook his head. "And we're not going to tell her."

"So we'll all four be disappearing?"

"Looks like it," he said.

"When do you leave?"

"Sometime this week," he said. "We should probably start walking back, 'Mione."

"Or we could just stay here forever," she suggested, sitting up and smiling a smile tinted with apologies and sadness. "It would be much easier to sit on this bench for the rest of our lives."

"It would be easier," he agreed, standing up and holding his hands out to her. "But our lives were never intended to be easy. That's why we were given such wonderful friends: to help us get through it all."

"I don't know what I'm going to do without you," she said, letting him pull her up and into a hug.

"You'll survive," he said, confidently. "You'll succeed, and survive, and at the end of the war, we will celebrate our victory together."

"You know that you'll have to hide this from Him," she said, suddenly solemn. "You can't let him know about us."

"Of course," he said. "Snape and I have been working on my Occlumency. I'm not half bad now. I'm definitely not as good as you, though," he said, smiling.

"You also don't have enhanced magical powers," she reminded him.

They walked arm in arm back to the school, talking about lighter things and joking. She left him at the portrait to their common room, hugging him one last time and biting back another set of tears.

"I'll see you soon," he promised, kissing the top of her head before retreating behind the portrait.

She walked slowly back to Draco's room, stopping in an empty class room to make herself invisible when she was halfway back. It was taking a lot of energy to absorb all of the events of the day and she was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to lay in bed and sleep for a good twelve hours, but the day was not over.

When she entered Draco's room, she found him sitting on his bed, rewatching a movie. He looked over as she shut the door and handed her half of a turkey sandwich when she sat next to him on the bed.

"How did it go?" he asked, turning his attention back to the screen as he ate his own half of the sandwich.

"It was good," she said. "Any news?"

"Fantastic news, actually," he said. "We've received a letter already."

"And what does it say?"

He produced a letter from beside him and handed it to her. She dropped her turkey sandwich a few sentences in.

"Dear Merlin," she whispered.

A/N

Kind of a cliffhanger, lol. I warned you at the beginning though that I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this. If you have any helpful ideas, let me know : ) They're obviously going to go somewhere far away, but the logistics are not at all worked out. Should they be alone? Should they be training? Where should they go? I have no idea. I'll figure it out soon, though, and I'll gladly consider any of your ideas : )

Buhbye!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N

I am really just not sure about this chapter. I've been trying to write it for several days, and I'm kind of over trying to fix it, lol. So, sorry if it sucks, but it's the best that I can do right now. Apparently my writer's block has decided to kick in now :P

Chapter Twelve

If someone had told Hermione Granger two months ago that she would be slowly becoming friends with Draco Malfoy, she would have scoffed in disgust. If someone had told her, though, that she would be packing her bags to floo to a private island in the middle of the pacific with Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape, she would have absolutely laughed in their faces.

Now, though, she was well on her way to doing both of those things. Apparently the Dark Lord had some kind of twisted sense of humor because sending anyone to a private island with Severus Snape was insanity. Let alone sending them with Draco Malfoy, as well. She was, however, supposed to be in love with Draco, so that part was not entirely insanity.

She had taken as long as she possibly could to pack her bags, lingering in her room until she was fifteen minutes late to meet Draco in Snape's office. He finally appeared at her door, looking flustered and a bit upset. "Granger," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"I know, I know," she sighed.

"He wont be happy."

"Is he ever?" she asked.

"Do you have your bags?" he asked. She patted the pocket of her jeans where here shrunken bags resided. "And your manners?"

"I lost those at about the same time that I started hanging around with you," she said, smirking. "Let's get this over with."

"You're not even remotely excited about this, are you?" he asked, sounding a little bit deflated.

"You are?" she asked.

"Well, yes," he said. "We get to live on an island by ourselves-"

"With Severus Snape," she interrupted. "And however many other grumpy old men the Dark Lord sends to help us train."

"They won't be there all of the time," he reminded her. "We'll have an entire beach house to ourselves and, hell, an entire beach to ourselves! Besides, I've packed enough firewhisky to get a herd of elephants drunk."

Hermione had to admit that his childlike enthusiasm about this trip was endearing. Perhaps she was overreacting just a bit. The Dark Lord could have decided to send them somewhere terrible like Malfoy Manner or any of the other Death Eater's horrible estates. With all things considered, perhaps an island wouldn't be too terrible. Besides, Harry and Ron would be leaving soon, anyway, and Ginny would not be forgiving Hermione any time soon, so what was left for her at Hogwarts?

She sighed. "Let's go, then," she said. He slid his hand into hers and she looked up at him, confused.

"We have an audience," he informed her. As they walked down the stairs, fingers laced together, Hermione put on her finest smirk as she walked past a few of her Gryffindor classmates who were waiting - and gawking - in the common room. She ignored the whispers of *how could she* and *bloody hell, it was true!* and strolled confidently past them all, not making eye contact with a single one of them.

The fastest way to get to Snape's office was to cut through the Great Hall. Draco moved to take the scenic route, but Hermione shook her head. "We're leaving anyway," she said, pulling him towards the large room where most of Hogwarts would be gathering for dinner. "We might as well confirm all of the rumors. When they entered, the entire Hall fell silent. Hermione glanced at the large table in the front where the faculty was seated, and caught Dumbledore's eyes, nodding just slightly. His expression changed for just a moment, but she caught the twinkle in his eye as he nodded back.

They walked through the middle of the room, well aware of the stares from everyone. When they reached the end of the long tables, Draco stopped, and tugged her arm a bit to pull her around towards him. "Let's go out with a bang," he whispered, winking at her as he twisted his fingers into her hair and kissed her passionately. The gasps and whispers filled the Hall immediately, but Hermione did not notice. He had caught her completely by surprise and her knees had nearly buckled as she shivered from head to toe. He pulled away a few seconds later, leaving her breathless. He pasted that trademark smirk on his face, wrapped his arm around her waist, and led her out of the dining hall without looking back.

Snape was very disgruntled by the time they arrived in his office - Draco looking proud and Hermione still a bit red-faced and flustered - and sighed in annoyance. "Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy, I was unaware that you functioned on an entirely different time schedule than the rest of this school."

"I apologize, Professor," Hermione said, sounding only partially sorry. "One must be sure to pack all of their important belongings when they are forced to vacate their dormitory to move to an island. Some of us won't have the luxury of being able to leave that island."

"Some of us," he sneered, "have not been meddling in powerful magic that we have no idea how to control and playing games with the Dark Lord's mind."

"Well," Hermione said, "at least some of us are actually doing something about winning this war instead of-"

"That's quite enough," Draco said, pushing his fingers into her hip to urge her to bite her tongue. "We apologize, Severus. Hermione is having a bit of a difficult time adjusting to this new situation."

"You'll have plenty of time to adjust to it once you are safely transported to the island," he informed her, coldly. "Now, are there any more delays, or can we now open the floo connection to Malfoy Manor?"

"Malfoy Manor?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, Miss Granger," Snape said, condescendingly. "We are flooing to Malfoy Manor first. It is the only place where you will be able to floo to the island from, and it is the only place that you will be able to return from the island. Malfoy Manor will be carefully watched by Death Eaters from now on to ensure that even if anyone becomes aware of your location, it will be nearly impossible for them to get to you."

"Oh."

"Indeed," Snape sneered. "Draco, you will go first, then Hermione, and I will arrive last."

After Draco disappeared into the fireplace, Hermione followed close behind, stumbled out into one of the rooms of Malfoy Manor, and nearly ran into Lucious. Draco gripped her arm and pulled her over to his side and away from his hotheaded father. When Severus stepped out of the fireplace smoothly, he greeted Lucious.

"The special powder," Lucious said, ignoring Snape's greeting and handing over a pouch.

"Of course," Snape said, with only a hint of a sneer. He held the bag out to Draco. "The location is 'Private Resort.'"

"It sounds like a spa," Hermione mumbled as Draco took a handful of the powder and stepped into the fireplace. She stepped forward next, purposefully avoiding the gaze of Lucious Malfoy - though she knew that he was eyeing her - and took the powder. She stepped into the flames and said, "Private Resort."

This time, she nearly stumbled into a much younger - and less ridiculous but not much less hotheaded - Malfoy. The room that they were in was very dark and surprisingly tiny.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, only to be bumped into Malfoy by Snape.

"Exit the closet," Snape hissed, immediately backing away from the students.

"We're in a closet?" Hermione asked as Draco located the door.

"Apparently the interior decorator decided that a fireplace would not fit in well with the décor of the house," Snape said, dryly as they stepped into the light room on the other side of the closet door. Snape stepped out in front of them and headed towards a door on the opposite side of the large room and said, "I'll give you five minutes to change into appropriate clothing. I will be waiting on the beach. Your room is down the hall." He slammed the door a moment later and left Draco and Hermione standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

"Appropriate clothing?" she commented, unsure. The room that they were standing in looked very much like something out of a dream honeymoon catalogue. It was quite shocking that this was a place that Voldemort would own, but Hermione supposed that everyone needed a relaxing vacation once in a while.

"It's warmer here, I suppose," he said, stripping off his heavy sweater.

"I'll need to get things out of my suitcase, then," she said, spinning around and locating what looked like a kitchen and then the 'hall' that Snape must have been referring to. Draco trailed behind her. "There's only one door," she commented, opening it to reveal a master bedroom with a king sized bed and various other kinds of furniture. "Oh," she said, partially overwhelmed by the beautiful, calming bedroom. She was also partially confused about why there was only one bedroom. "Maybe there's another room down the hallway?"

"I highly doubt it," he said, pulling his shrunken suitcases out of his pocket and enlarging them. "We are supposed to be a couple, remember? Besides, we've basically been living together, anyway."

"But this is different," she said, following suite and enlarging her suitcases and searching through one of them. "This is actually living together."

"And?"

"And it's weird!" she said, stripping down to her underwear and ignoring the fact that he was suddenly very interested in scanning her up and down as she pulled on a pair of his basketball shorts - which she had claimed as her own - and an old t-shirt. "But we don't have time to talk about this now," she said, locating a pair of flip flops. "You need to get changed."

"I don't want to talk about it later, either," he grumbled, replacing his pants with a pair of basketball shorts and locating his own flip flops. "Why do women always want to talk about everything."

"Because it's important," she said, walking away from him as she pulled her hair up into a messy bun. He sighed and followed her back through the house and onto the beach where Snape was waiting, looking very out of place in his dark robes.

"We will begin with Occlumency," the large nosed professor announced, sounding bored. "Legillimens."

Hermione yawned dramatically - just to annoy the stuck up man - as he fumbled through her fake memories. "Impressive," he grumbled after realizing that he was just looking at memories of animals and that the witch was toying with him. She felt his focuses switch as he attacked her impenetrable barriers.

"You won't get through," she informed him.

"Maybe you should just focus on one of us," Draco suggested. Hermione's mind was assaulted with double the strength a moment later, but her walls held strong. He moved to Draco a moment later, but she stayed braced for another attack.

"Good," Snape complemented. "There is room for improvement, but for now let us move on to another skill. Dueling."

"Each other, or you?" Hermione asked, shooting him a challenging gaze.

"Each other," he said, as if it were obvious. "Skill could not matter against power of your caliber, Miss Granger. Especially since it is mostly untrained, untapped, and completely uncontrolled power. I will not put my life at risk in order to train the two of you. You will duel each other because your bond will not allow you to kill each other. It does not, however, care about my life."

"Understandable," Draco said. He turned to Hermione, and winked at her as he stepped backwards and positioned himself.

"This is not a joke, Mister Malfoy," Snape drawled.

"And I am not treating it as one, Professor," Draco answered, somewhat sincerely. Hermione rolled her eyes and raised her wand.

"There are no rules," Snape announced, stepping away from the pair. "Showcase your skills, and do not hold back. I need to see exactly how far you had delved into this power."

"I'd like to ask a question first," Hermione said, lowering her wand again as she turned to the professor. He looked completely uninterested, but did not protest. "How should we trust that you know anymore about this bond than we do?"

"I have done my research," he said, as if it were obvious.

"Honestly?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "You honestly think that we have not researched every book that we could find?"

"Oh, I believe that you've thoroughly researched everything that you could find," he said, emphasizing the last word. "I, however, have had access to one of the wizards who has experienced this bond."

Hermione bit her tongue and turned back to Draco in defeat, raising her wand again.

"Begin… now," Snape ordered. The duel that ensued was brutal and lasted nearly fifteen minutes. Snape watched intently, but cautiously, as the teenagers hurled extremely advanced spells at each other. When he finally called for it to end, both teenagers were bleeding and worse for wear, breathing heavily.

"This," Snape began, "was not as impressive."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but a pained gurgle came out instead.

"You have not even grazed the surface," Snape elaborated. "This is precisely why the Dark Lord has decided that you should be trained. But that is enough for today. Tomorrow we will work intensively on healing, but you have depleted the small amount of power that you have tapped into today."

"And what should we do about our wounds?" Draco asked, wiping at a small stream of blood from the corner of his mouth.

"Miss Granger's rudimentary healing skills should suffice for now," Snape said, walking back towards the house. "I will be arriving in the afternoon tomorrow after I am done teaching my classes." With that, he entered the house. They watched him disappear into the closet before turning towards each other.

"You look terrible," she said, her voice raspy and weak.

"I'm sure I look no worse than you do," he said, laughing. They set to work healing each other, and a few minutes later, all that remained of the battle was their blood stained clothing, and the drying blood on their skin. Because of their bond, they both knew that any bits of damage that they had failed to heal would be heal quickly on its own.

"How about a swim?" she suggested, transfiguring her clothes into a bikini.

"A little salt in the freshly healed wounds sounds delightful," he agreed, simply stripping off his t-shirt. "I'll race you in."

After a tiring play in the ocean, the pair shuffled through the sand to the house. There were two separate showers in the bathroom - as well as a Jacuzzi - which alleviated a possible battle for who would get the first shower, but caused quite a hilarious situation. After arguing the logistics of how this would work, it was agreed that Draco would not be naked in anywhere but the shower stall, and Hermione assured him that if he so much as snuck a glance into her shower stall, he would be castrated.

Hermione finished first, wrapping a large towel snugly around herself before exiting the steamy bathroom. When Draco walked out a few minutes later with his towel around his waist, he found Hermione sitting on the floor in the middle of multiple stacks of clothing.

"Granger?" he asked, cautiously.

"I don't know where to put my clothes," she said, looking - and feeling - very small and vulnerable in her current curled up position on the floor. "I've never shared a room with anyone before."

"It's not a big deal," he shrugged.

"It is to me," she said, giving him a pointed stare. "This house is not big, Draco. We have a living room, a kitchen, and one bedroom to share between the two of us. That's it. There is no separation at all. We have one closet, one dresser, and one bed. What if we get mad at each other? Who's going to go sleep on the couch, hmm?"

"No one's going to have to sleep on the couch," he said. "We've been sleeping in the same bed every single night for almost two months now. And you can have one half of the closet, I'll take the other. Dressers have separate drawers, Hermione. I don't understand why you're making this such a large issue."

"This isn't how I pictured this happening," she said, quietly, crossing her arms across her towel covered chest in a self conscious manner.

"It's just a bedroom," he said. "We practically lived in each others rooms."

"This is a first that I was not prepared to share with you, though," she said.

"But you already were."

"Not like this," she shook her head. "I was raised to believe that there were certain things that were to be kept sacred for marriage like sex and living together and having joint bank accounts. I just always thought that the first guy that I would move in with would be my husband. Someone that I was in love with and who was committed to me. It sounds stupid to say outloud, I suppose, but it's how I feel."

"Well," Draco said, feeling a little bit lost, "I'm not exactly sure how to fix this. The Dark Lord thinks that we're in love, you know. I mean, we did permanently bind ourselves together and lie to him about our relationship, so it would definitely tip him off if we complain about living in the same house."

"This is entirely pointless, isn't it?" she asked, sighing. "Look, I'm just going to get some clothes, get dressed, and put my stuff into the left side of the closet and the left side of the dresser. You're entirely right. I'm making a huge deal out of this, and it's completely crazy and insane of me. This is just until the war is over, and then after that we can go back to what we were before. I'll run off and get married and move in for real with a husband, and you can go back to doing whatever it was that you were doing before."

She grabbed her clothes, wiping a stray tear away, and retreating into the bathroom leaving Draco to sit on the floor by himself, entirely confused. What the hell had she been going on about? His head hurt from trying to keep up with her neurotic mood tonight and he couldn't make sense of what had just happened. It was just a bedroom, just a house, and just a few months or at the most a year. Wasn't it?

Then why was it that he couldn't even remember what his goal in life had been before he met her? Why was it that he was having trouble picturing what he would do without her around? Being around this girl felt like being sucked up into a tornado sometimes. At first he had hated her, then he started to respect her, then they became friends, and now she was talking about just leaving all of this behind after the war?

He ran his hand through his still damp hair and moved robotically towards his suitcase to find pajamas to put on before she came out. Why did it bother him so much that she could leave so easily? Was it because he had expected more of her? Maybe that was it. Maybe he had just assumed that someone like Hermione couldn't invest this much time and emotion into a person and then just expect to walk away so easily.

Hermione came out of the bathroom, red eyed and stoic, and piled her clothes back into the suitcase, pulling it into the closet.

"Granger," Draco said, walking over to stand in the closet door as she organized everything.

"I'm done talking about it," she said, turning to him and flashing him a fake smile. He sighed angrily and grabbed his own suitcase and dropping things into random drawers, making as much noise as possible. "You don't need to throw a fit, Malfoy," Hermione said from the closet, sounding almost amused.

"Oh, as if you're not?"

"Just keep all of your stuff on the right side, I'll keep all of mine on the right," she said. "When we're done, we'll get wasted and go to bed. It'll be the vacation you were dreaming of."

"I'll put my shit where I want to," he informed her, yanking open 'her' drawers and dumping clothes into them, too. Just as he had hoped, she came storming out of the closet.

"Stop it, Ferret," she warned, arms crossed and hip popped out.

"What're you going to do?" he asked, smirking. "Hex me? Oh how scary. We just saw how that would go down. I'm in no mood to destroy the Dark Lord's vacation home."

"Then get your shit out of my drawers."

"Make me," he challenged, dropping a few more t-shirts into a drawer. Hermione shoved him out of the way and threw a drawer full of clothes on the floor before he could recover from the shock. "Don't you dare," he warned.

"Screw you," she said, whipping a t-shirt at him.

"I don't think that you want to start this," he said, grabbing a shirt and holding it up threateningly.

"I don't think you know what you're getting into," she countered, taking it from his hand.

Ten minutes later, every single item of clothing had been removed from every suitcase, drawer, and shelf. They laid on the bed, too tired to think of cleaning up the room which was now a complete mess of jeans, shirts, and underwear, breathing heavily.

Draco broke first, unable to hold back an amused smile as he removed a pair of Hermione's underwear from her damp curls.

"I'm sorry," she said, kicking a pair of jeans onto the floor.

"Me too," he said, pulling her towards him.

"I'm too tired to fight anymore," she said. He nodded in agreement. "We're pretty terrible at living together so far."

"Yeah. I'm sorry I called you Mudblood."

"I'm sorry I called you Ferret."

"I'm sorry I whipped a pair of jeans at you."

"I'm sorry I ripped one of your t-shirts."

"Are we OK now?" he asked, pulling away a little so that he could look her in the eyes.

"Yeah," she nodded, closing her eyes. "We're OK."

A few minutes later her breathing evened out and her body relaxed. He rubbed her back unconsciously and stared at the ceiling, running through the night again. He glanced down at her sleeping face, realizing that his fears about her being able to leave him so easily were completely unreasonable. There was no way that either of them were going to be able to walk away from this without a huge amount of effort. The spell was made to bind them together, and it was succeeding.

And then he realized what had been bothering him so much earlier. It wasn't that he had assumed she wouldn't leave him, it was that he didn't know how he could leave her. He had no idea what he would do without her in his arms at night. Half of the time they didn't get along and called each other names, but he was slowly realizing that he wouldn't have it any other way.

He really did care about Hermione Granger. Attitude, neuroticism and all. Maybe it was those irresistible eyes or the unexplainable way that she had accepted him for who he was. He couldn't make sense of it. But he also knew that he didn't want to try to make sense of life without her, either, and it scared him.

Hermione was strong and independent. If it was possible for her to tap into the powers without him, he knew that she could have easily trained herself and done it all alone. She would be stable, emotionally fine, and strong even without him there. She would have marched up to Voldemort just as she had with him by her side, gotten the dark mark, and taken him down all by herself because she was Hermione Granger.

He, however, had no idea where he would be without her. He would probably still be doing whatever his father and the Dark Lord told him to do, hating his life and wishing that he could change it instead of actually doing something about it. He considered for a moment that maybe he was just scared because he felt inferior to her, but that thought did not hold up.

He was more than willing to admit that she was stronger than he was. Her strength and confidence were some of the things that he found most appealing about her. As he laid in bed with her, it suddenly hit him: he had not so much as looked at another girl in almost two months. His breath caught in his throat for a moment as the reality of this situation hit him. He was Draco Malfoy, Slytherin sex god, who could have a different girl in his bed every night if he chose. For some reason, though, he had not even kissed anyone but Hermione since he was Marked.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, immediately trying to cut off this entire train of thoughts. Spending almost two months just sleeping and cuddling with a girl? Going almost two months without sex and not even noticing? When had he started to fall for Hermione Granger?

He was royally fucked.

A/N

Ok, so there it is, in all its terribleness. I'm probably going to fast-forward through a lot of this island stuff, just because it's going to get really fluffy and boring if I don't. But, yeah. Some critiquing is probably really necessary for this chapter, so let it loose, lol. And let me know if the pacing of the story still feels alright for you guys (:

Thanks!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N

I feel kind of silly putting this warning up at the top here, but consider yourselves warned that there is some kind of a sexual scene in this chapter. It's not much, and I don't really find it offensive, but people generally warn readers about this, so here you go!

Not sure how I feel about this chapter, but I like it a bit better than the last one. I think it's a little bit too long, but I didn't really want to cut anything out. Anywho, though, thanks a million for all of the reviews :D I can't see how many hits I've gotten for this chapter since apparently the "Traffic" tab is broken or some nonsense, but I've gotten very respectable amounts of comments for the past couple of chapters, and that makes me very very happy :D

Enjoy!

Chapter Thirteen

When Hermione woke up the next afternoon, Draco was not beside her. She had fallen asleep so quickly, and had slept soundly for nearly thirteen hours. When she sat up, she noticed that he had cleaned up the bedroom, too. When she slid out of bed to inspect the drawers, she came to the conclusion that he had used magic to organize it all, obliging to her wishes and putting all of her things on the left. She opened one of his drawers and grabbed a pair of satin pants before padding out to the living room. Draco was just exiting the kitchen with two plates in his hand and a piece of half eaten toast between his teeth.

"I made breakfast," he announced past the toast.

"I can see that," she said, taking one of the plates. "Thanks. And thanks for cleaning the room."

"Couldn't sleep," he shrugged.

"You didn't sleep at all?" she asked. He shook his head.

"I slept for about three hours."

"You should take a nap."

"Too wired."

"Snape's going to be pissed."

"I'll be fine."

"Whatever," she shrugged. "Does this really count as breakfast since it's, like, two in the afternoon?"

"Well, it's breakfast food, at least," he said. Just as they sat on the couch, the closet door opened and Snape appeared.

"How delightful," he sneered, "to see that you are both prepared for our session this afternoon."

Hermione sat her plate down on a table and sashayed past the professor to change. Draco had been dressed and ready since he woke up at eight a.m. so he continued eating his breakfast until his rambunctious counterpart reentered the room sans pajamas.

Snape glanced at the small girl and then pivoted towards the door. They followed him to the beach where he pulled out his wand. "I'm going to cast a numbing spell on you," he announced. "Then, I want you each hit each other with one damaging spell so that we can work on healing." He murmured the spell a moment later and Hermione's body started to tingle unpleasantly.

"Great," she mumbled, turning to Draco and hurling a spell at him.

"Ouch," he said, reflexively, even though it hadn't hurt. He had a few large gashes scattered along his body now. He mumbled a spell and aimed it towards her, wincing as she was sliced up as well.

"Now," Snape said, "I want you each to close your eyes and focus only on healing. Concentrate on anything light and good that you can. It might help if you grab hands, too."

Hermione took a few clumsy steps to the left with her hand stretched out until she located Draco. He laced his fingers into hers and an unfamiliar energy surged between them, traveling from their hands and around their entire bodies, overpowering the numb tingling.

"That will do," Snape said. "Now, open your eyes and try a stronger spell. You've finally started to tap into the powers. When you're casting these new spells, I want you to do it wandlessly and silently. Using your wands will actually block the more powerful magic that you have access to."

Hermione dropped Draco's hand and made a show of dropping her wand on the ground as well. She focused her gaze on the blonde headed boy, pulling up some of the negative emotions from the previous night and then casting the same spell she had used before. The results this time were significantly worse. There were more lacerations, and they were visibly deeper. She bit her lip, concerned, and then braced herself as he shot his own more powerful version back at her.

"Fantastic," Snape complimented, actually sounding a bit serious.

It was nearly three hours later when he was finally happy with their improvements and disappeared behind the closet door again. Each time, Hermione could feel how much deeper into the magic they were getting, and each time it got a little bit easier to use more and more of this newly discovered power.

The pair looked like they had been through a war. Hermione's t-shirt was ragged and Draco had taken his off an hour into the session. Hermione was done with her shower first and when Draco exited the bathroom in pajama pants, he found her sitting on the couch in the living room. She held out a bottle of firewhiskey which she had already started drinking. He grinned and took a drink before passing it back.

"Want to watch a movie?" he asked.

"I'm too wired to pay attention to one," she said.

"How can you be wired after all of that?" he asked.

"Are you tired?"

When he thought about it, he found that he wasn't. He shook his head.

"It's an effect from the healing," she said. "We're going to be awake all night now, since we healed ourselves so many times. Hence the alcohol."

"Brilliant," he complimented.

"Always," she agreed, taking a large swig.

"Bloody hell, Granger, slow down," he chastised. "I've created some kind of monster."

"Rawr," she replied, smirking proudly before downing another mouthful. "I think we should get wasted tonight," she said. "Like for real this time. I want a hangover tomorrow."

"You're crazy," he said, reaching to take the bottle. She held onto it tightly and tried to take another drink. "I really think you should slow down," he said, sincerely.

"Well, you're entitled to your opinion."

"Hermione," he said. "There's something wrong, isn't there? Are you still upset about yesterday?"

"There's nothing wrong," she insisted, laughing him off. The laugh was just the slightest bit forced, though, and he noticed.

"I'm not stupid, you know," he said. "I can read you pretty well. You're obviously upset, and drinking isn't going to fix it."

"It will for tonight."

"Or you could just talk to me."

She shook her head.

"Well you need to talk to someone," he said.

"Well, if you happen to find one of my best friends on this island, I'd be more than happy to."

"Or maybe you could just try to make this situation work out," he suggested. "You're kind of scaring me right now."

"What? I'm not allowed to drink?"

"No," he shook his head. "You can make your own decisions. But I think that you should think about what you're doing right now. What could you be this upset about, Granger? Nothing even really happened today."

"I know," she said, moving to take another drink only to have the bottle removed from her hand.

"Talk to me," he said, sitting the bottle down on the beside table. "Stop trying to drink away whatever this is and just talk to me."

"You won't understand."

"Why?"

"Because you just won't," she shrugged. "I need Harry. And if I can't have him, then I want the firewhiskey back."

"Fine," he said, getting off of the bed and walking towards the doorway. "Do whatever the fuck you want. I'm not cleaning you up in the morning, though."

He laid down on the bed and pulled the bleached white sheet up over himself and sighing deeply. Damn stubborn Granger. They both knew that she was upset, and they both knew that she would regret drinking. He had done his duty and tried to warn her, but when she made her mind up about something, there was no turning back.

Tonight, however, seemed to be an exception. Just a few minutes later he heard her light footsteps in the hallway and then she slid under the sheet next to him. She laid on her side, facing him but not touching him at all. The sun was setting slowly over the water and when he turned his head to look at her, his heart started beating faster. The orange light from the sun bounced off of her slightly sunburnt skin. She looked like some kind of angel as she laid there surrounded by all of the white sheets and sunlight.

"I'm trusting you not to make fun of me," she informed him, seriously.

"I won't," he promised, turning onto his side, too.

"I'm just… I just realized today that even after this war, nothing's going to go back to normal," she said. "I had been telling myself that this was going to be temporary, and that after the war everything would be normal again. Harry and Ron and Ginny will forgive me and we'll all be best friends again. I'll run off and get married and live happily ever after."

"And you will," he said, confidently. "If that's what you want, that's what's going to happen."

"Not it's not," she shook her head. "No one is going to marry the Gryffindor who is bound to Draco Malfoy for the rest of eternity, Marked by the Dark Lord, and who's gone completely insane. How is anyone else going to understand why I did what I did?"

"You did this because you're nice," he said. "And brave, and smart, and caring. Anyone would be able to see that."

"I couldn't ask anyone to marry me," she said. "There is no way that that would be anything but complicated. You and I barely spend any time apart anymore, Draco. Maybe some of that is because we're the only people we've got right now, but we both know that a lot of it is because of the binding spell. And Snape just told us that we haven't even scraped the surface of our powers, which means that it's only going to get worse. I will never be able to connect with someone in the way that the spell has connected me to you. It wouldn't be fair to him."

"No one else ever tried to go that route," Draco pointed out. "Maybe our powers would fade away and the bond would loose it's strength."

"I'm just scared because recently I've realized that everything is not going to be 'normal' after the war because this is not going to change after the war," she said, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "I've just realized that I've been lying to myself for weeks now."

"Lying to yourself?" he asked, confused.

"I thought that we were barely friends, Draco," she said, quietly. "But look at how we must look to everyone else. This isn't an act right now. We don't fall asleep in each others arms at night so that people will believe in our 'fake' relationship. We've only kissed a few times, but each time it's meant something. It wasn't for show, and it was certainly enjoyed on both sides.

"If we were watching two other people act this way with each other, we would immediately assume that they were – at the very least – a whole lot more than friends," she continued. "I've been thinking about this all day now – ever since our talk last night – and I've realized that I can't even picture what it would be like to walk away from you after the war. I can't picture being happy without having you beside me and it scares me."

"What are you trying to say?" he asked, staring intently into her eyes as his heart beat loudly.

"I'm saying that I'm scared because everything won't be 'normal,'" she repeated, and then took a deep breath before finishing. "Because I think I'm falling for you. And it's crazy and irrational and it makes absolutely no sense," she went on, talking quickly so that she could get it all out before he interrupted her. But he had no intentions of doing such a thing – not when she was saying exactly what he had wanted to hear. "We hated each other for so long, and maybe some of it is just because of the stupid spell.

"But when I wake up in the morning and feel your arms around me, my heart starts to race," she said. He felt his own heart flutter faster at this sentence. "You walk into a room and lock those cocky blue eyes onto me and I get those stupid, corny, sappy butterflies in my stomach. I've never felt this way about anyone, Draco. Not Ronald, not Krum, not any of my silly preteen crushes. It's absolutely frightening.

"And now I'm sitting here spilling out my heart to you," she said, finally letting the tears fall. "I've somehow fallen head over heels for Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin sex god who's been rumored to have a different girl in his bed each night. And I've just handed you my bloody heart on a platter like some pathetic, fucked up girl. I think I've really done it this time, Draco. I've gone completely insane."

"No," he assured her immediately, reaching his hand out to her face. "Well, yes, I suppose. But if you're insane, then I am a lunatic."

She looked into his eyes, running what he had said through her mind and trying to make sense of it. She looked so fragile and scared and confused in that moment, her brown eyes heavy with emotion. He could barely stand it. Did she honestly not see that he felt the same way? For such a brilliant witch, she could be outrageously daft sometimes. She chewed her lip nervously and he groaned in frustration.

"Damn it, Granger," he said, his voice suddenly quiet and husky. "I've warned you about that."

She looked alarmed. "I'm sorry," she apologized, uncertainly.

"You have no idea, do you?" he asked, suddenly closing the gap between them and moving his hand to her hip to pull her closer.

"I don't know what you mean," she said. He watched her face as she frantically tried to process what was happening. "What do you-"

"You have no idea how far gone I am," he said, shaking his head at her. Her eyes darted quickly back and forth as she tried to look into both of his eyes at the same time. "I could blame it on your eyes or your lips or your devilishly sexy body, but it's really just all of you, Granger. It's the way you put me in my place one minute, but comfort me the next. It snuck up on me. One minute you were simply staying in my bed, and the next thing I know, you've made permanent residence in my thoughts. You started out borrowing my pajama pants, and now you've taken my heart."

"Draco," she whispered, expression fluttering between concern, relief, and joy.

"Of course it would be Hermione Granger who would break through the iciest heart in Hogwarts," he laughed quietly. "Do you know," he whispered, "that I have not so much as lusted after one single female other than you since I was in the hospital wing?"

She pulled her face away from his, a disbelieving expression on her face.

"It's the truth," he nodded. "And what's worse is that I didn't even realize it until last night. You're a sneaky little witch, Granger. I don't know how you did it."

"I didn't do anything," she insisted.

"Not on purpose, perhaps," he said.

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

"You shouldn't be," he said.

"What does this all mean?"

"That maybe we won't have to pretend as much," he said, sliding his hand to her lower back and rubbing her skin with his thumb. "Maybe it means that maybe we should both just accept this now instead of fighting it any longer."

"What do you want?" she whispered.

"Only you," he whispered back, pressing his lips to hers suddenly as he shifted her small frame on top of his own. It took her a moment to react, but after her brain caught up, she kissed him back with a certain sense of desperation. She could feel the heat radiating off of his bare chest though her thin t-shirt and she shivered when he moved one hand to her neck and one hand to her back, pulling her as close to him as he possibly could.

A few heavy breaths later, he helped her pull her shirt over her head and marveled at her body in the red sunset. It had been a few days since he had closely inspected her tattoo and he was surprised to find that it had changed again. The pattern had gotten more intense and the edges strained further and further down her appendages. Her long, slim arms and legs were nearly covered with the markings. It only made her even more beautiful, he thought, as he pulled her back down to him. She did not kiss his lips this time, though, nuzzling his neck instead before tracing her tongue up slowly to his earlobe and biting it teasingly. He pressed his fingers into her back approvingly.

She rolled off of him, then, grabbing his shoulders to urge him on top of her as her confidence receded a bit. Soon, though, he was kissing her neck and distracting her effectively. After adjusting to this new round of sensations, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of his pants and pulled them down, skillfully using her toes to finish the job when her arms proved to be too short.

"Hermione," he said, suddenly, ceasing all movement when he registered the absence of his pants. "Hermione, we need to stop."

"I have no intention of stopping," she informed him, leaning up to place kisses along his collarbone.

"You've had too much firewhiskey," he insisted, gulping as she wiggled down lower to kiss his chest. "Merlin, how are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" she asked, innocently, before nibbling his nipple.

"Granger," he groaned, flipping them back over so that she was on top again. "You're drunk."

"I most certainly am not," she said, closing her eyes, stretching her arms out, and tapping her index fingers to her nose one at a time to prove him wrong. "I could walk in a straight line right now, too, if you'd like."

"You're going to regret this," he said.

"I want you," she insisted, running her hands from his shoulders down to the band of his black and white checkered boxers.

"This isn't what you wanted at all, 'Mione," he said, trying desperately to ignore the way her fingers were tracing along his hipbones. He was amused for a brief second about the fact that Hermione was the one doing the instigating whereas he was playing her role and being the sensible one for once. "Remember what you said last night? About how you wanted to get married and have a joint bank account and move in with someone?"

"That's how it would normally go, yes," she agreed, flattening her palms on his stomach and stopping her teasing. "But normal went out the window the first night in the infirmary, and we both know it."

"It doesn't all have to go out the window," he said, sitting up and moving her backwards with him so that he was leaning against the wall with her on his lap.

"But I want it to."

"Tonight you do," he agreed. "But tomorrow you might feel differently."

"I won't," she assured him, shaking her head. "Why don't you want me?"

"Merlin, Hermione," he sighed, frustrated. "I've wanted you for years. But not now, and not like this."

"You're refusing to have sex with me," she clarified.

"I'm refusing to do anything to ruin whatever twisted kind of relationship we have right now, yes," he agreed. "If that means not having sex with you while you are not thinking clearly, then I am most certainly refusing."

"Even though I want you to," she prodded.

"You could not say anything to convince me to have sex with you tonight, Hermione Granger. I had never been a gentleman before I met you, but I've waited long enough already. One more night won't hurt me. It's not going to be all that fun your first time, 'Mione."

"Which is why it's better that I'm drunk," she interjected.

"No," he shook his head. "It isn't right and I won't consent to it. It's going to hurt and it's going to mean just as much as you've imagined that it will. Just because I've been an asshole before doesn't mean that I was oblivious to what the girls were going through. You're not even with somebody that you love. This would all be different if we loved each other."

She sighed, annoyed, and searched for her shirt.

"I didn't say you had to get dressed," he said, running his hands up and down the outsides of her arms. "I quite enjoy you being half naked. Besides, since you're my girlfriend now, we shouldn't have to wear anything to bed."

"Oh, is that what I am?" she asked, raising her eyebrow.

"It's what I want you to be," he answered. "For real this time. But you'll have to teach me how to be a boyfriend. I've never been one before."

"Could have fooled me," she shrugged, lazily tracing the muscles on his torso in a curious way – as opposed to the devious way that she had been doing it earlier.

"So what would a boyfriend do right now?" he asked.

"Fuck me," she said, glancing at him slyly for a moment before giggling. "I don't know," she shrugged, answering seriously now. "What we've been doing for weeks now, I suppose. Cuddle. Watch TV. Get drunk and fall asleep. I don't really know. I've only dated Krum, remember? And he rarely visited. You don't have much to live up to, really. You can just blaze your own trail."

"I don't feel any different," he mused, "now that we're… official."

"Maybe that's because we've been acting like we're dating – even when we're alone – for the past two months," she suggested, smirking at him.

"You look deliciously evil when you do that," he informed her.

"I'm secretly a badass," she agreed, darting forward and nipping at his earlobe again before resting her head on his shoulder.

"And damn good at kissing," he praised. "I've never been one to appreciate it before, you know. It was just a gateway into more satisfying things. But I think that I would be happy kissing you for hours on end."

"Our lips would go numb," she mumbled against his neck.

"Would they?" he asked.

"We could find out," she said, sitting up straight and winking at him.

"You're the best girlfriend ever," he said.

"I'm the only one you've ever had," she reminded him. "It's not like you have anything to compare me to."

"Touche," he responded, settling a hand on each of her hips. "But I have held and kissed and looked at my fair amount of half naked women, and none of them come close to you."

"You're silly," she said. "But back to this question of lips going numb…" she trailed off, raising a suggestive eyebrow. He met her challenge, and guided her his mouth to hers, wrapping his arms around her waist with no intentions of letting her go anytime soon.

A/N

And there you have it. My somewhat-kinda-would-be-sex-scene. Hope it wasn't too terrible, lol. I felt that - after reading your feedback, and reading back over a few chapters - that it was time for this scene to happen. Hope you enjoyed it and that it wasn't too fluffy or unnecessary. The next chapter should be a bit fast forwarded and maybe more action packed - though I do not have a good history with writing anything action-y, so don't get your hopes up too high :P

Thanks in advance for all of your reviews ;)


	14. Chapter 14

A/N

So, I could apologize a thousand times for taking so long to update, but school started and I had way too much on my plate these past couple of weeks to even consider writing anything for anyone :P Unfortunately, chapters will not be coming as frequently - because of school and also because I am still in a kind of writers block-y stage - but I'll try to make them awesome-er.

Also, this chapter is going to have SEX in it. Critiques, please. I am not so confident in this type of writing since I've, like, never done it before. And all that jazz. Hopefully it's delicious, though ;)

And also: thank you for all of the reviews! I'm over one hundred now, which is awesome :D Hopefully I'll get a lot for this new chapter despite how long it took to upload it ):

Chapter Fourteen

When Draco woke up in the morning, something felt different. He had woken up to the same curly haired girl in his arms every morning for two months, but this morning was different. It was all different because now Hermione Granger was his first official girlfriend.

He was still a little bit panicked about the idea of being her boyfriend. This was one of the few areas in life where she had more experience than he did. She had been surrounded by boys with far better reputations and romancing skills than him. Even though she had only dated one of them did not mean that her expectations would be low. She was Hermione, after all.

He rested his head against hers and tried to steer away from another minor anxiety attack. He found it funny that he was more anxious and fidgety now than he had ever been around the Dark Lord or his own father. This entire experience was new and had all snuck up on him so effectively. From what she said last night, though, it had snuck up on her, too.

The effortless way that the more physical side of their relationship had come about, though, balanced out all of the anxiety. He did not let other girls stay in his bed - and if he did, they were only there until early morning and were removed as quickly as was tactfully possible - and he certainly did not cuddle. But he had never once considered not cuddling with Hermione or not staying in bed with her all night. He hadn't even stopped to consider how strange it was for him to holding her hand from time to time, or slipping his arm around her waist. He would never have done that with another girl - not unless she was going to fuck him later.

She really had thawed him out. He hadn't even realized how cold he had become until that sneaky little witch with her completely innocent beauty and optimism had swept him up into a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts.

This was why he was so anxious about her. He in no way deserved a girl like Hermione. He didn't deserve one single ounce of her compassion or unquestioning forgiveness. She had been solidly on his side since the very moment that he - unconsciously or not - reached out to her for help, and she had never wavered. He had sometimes looked at her as simply a know-it-all, goody two shoes. He had questioned why her two buffoons put up with her if they weren't getting any physical benefits because she was such a stuck up smartass.

But he could not have been more wrong about her. He had realized that when he woke up in the hospital bed and found her by his side. As she grew older, he had started to find her more attractive, but that first night in the infirmary had to be when his walls started to come down. He found lots of girls attractive - and he had slept with almost all of them - but Hermione had something else. Sure, maybe the other girls had had a spark of whatever was so special about Hermione, but they had ruined any chance of him noticing by jumping directly into his bed - even with the knowledge of his reputation.

Hermione - he was sure - was not anything like any other human being he had ever met. She was stronger and more independent and wonderful than he could have ever imagined. The woman that he had most admired when he was younger was his mother. Narcissa was poised in any situation and, though she was sometimes harsh and cold, it was always made clear that she would give up anything for her son. He now found himself admiring the sleeping young woman in his arms just as much as he had admired his own mother.

Hermione stirred in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent as she turned to face him and slid one arm around his waist, nuzzling her face against his neck.

"Draco?" she murmured.

"Mmm?"

"It's so bright in here."

"It's nearly noon," he informed her.

"Oh," she sighed, annoyed. He couldn't see her face, but he would bet a thousand galleons that she was pouting a little bit. "I don't want to get up."

"So don't," he said. "I'll go make some lunch and bring it to you."

"Now why would you do that?" she asked, lifting her head up from his neck and looking at him curiously through sleepy eyes.

"That's what boyfriends are supposed to do, right?"

"Haven't the foggiest," she said, shoving his shoulder lightly so that he was laying on his back. She climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. "But I don't want you to leave me."

His heart did an obnoxious flip flop in his chest and he tried to ignore it. Her stomach grumbled a moment later and she blushed a little bit.

"Perhaps we should eat, though," he said.

"I don't want this day to start," she groaned. "That slimy bastard will be here soon and Merlin only knows what ridiculous shite he'll have us doing today. I want a day off, damnit."

"There's always tonight," Draco pointed out.

"Yeah, after we're completely worn out."

"Oh, were we worn out last night?" he asked, raising his eyebrow. "I seem to remember you kissing me quite ferociously for at least an hour, Miss Granger."

"In your dreams, Malfoy," she said, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated manner. "I would never kiss a Malfoy." She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her nose up. She squealed a split second later when he carefully flipped their positions, uncrossing her arms and holding each arm out to one side.

"Maybe I should jog your memory," he suggested, grinning mischievously as he leaned down to kiss her. Hermione grinned back, and strained up to meet him halfway - only to be startled by an unexpected voice.

"I hate to interrupt," Severus' drawling, sarcastic voice carried loudly from the doorway, "but I appear to be pressed for time today, so let's make this quick. Be outside in five minutes." He turned on his heel and left the doorway.

"Great," Draco mumbled, rolling off of Hermione and sighing loudly. Watching Hermione slide off of the bed and walk over to the dresser immediately un-soured his mood, though. "It's a shame that you have to cover yourself up," he said, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her small waist. "You're so soft."

"You're going to get us in trouble," she said, leaning back against him and tilting her head up to kiss the bottom of his chin. "Get dressed, Draco."

He sighed again, grabbing random clothes and pulling them on. He followed her out to the beach where a very disgruntled Severus was waiting.

"There is a meeting with the Dark Lord tonight so I am forced to complete your training today during my lunch break," he informed them.

"Great," Hermione said, with overdone exuberance. "What kind of death defying tricks will we be learning today, Professor?"

"None," he responded. "I have been asked to… erm…" he trailed off, and the students began to become suspicious. Hermione could have sworn that the professor was blushing. "I do not want to have this conversation with you," he began again. "I want to make that very clear.

"As I'm sure you both know from your studies, the binding spell that you have performed can be strengthened in many ways. Some of those ways are a bit more… productive. While reading one of the books the Dark Lord provided me with, I found a chapter that explained…" he huffed, searching for words. "There is no point to beating around the bush. It's clear from the appearance of your tattoos that you two have failed to copulate so far.

"I am left to assume, though, from the situation that I so unfortunately walked into mere minutes ago that you have no objections to it. The Dark Lord will be immediately aware of this lack of bonding if he chooses to visit you, so-"

"Hang on a second," Draco interrupted. "You're saying that the Dark Lord is going to require that I have sex with Hermione?"

"Obviously," Snape sneered, "or I would not be bringing up this disgusting topic of conversation, Mister Malfoy. According to my reading, the changes after you copulate will be very significant. The Dark Lord knows even more about this bond than I do, so if I can tell that nothing has yet to have occurred, then he will surely be able to.

"Besides," Snape continued, "you two have been spreading around some blunt statements about your 'feelings' for each other. The Dark Lord is aware of your reputation, Draco, and whether you 'love' Miss Granger or not, I can assure you that he will certainly expect two teenagers who are in your positions to have been partaking in coitus."

"Gross," Hermione mumbled.

"Are there any further questions about this discussion?" Snape asked, ignoring her.

"He won't be coming any time soon, will he?" Draco asked, suddenly a little bit worried.

"He can access this island whenever he chooses, Malfoy," Snape responded.

"So we should do it soon," Draco confirmed.

"Yes," Snape hissed. "And for Merlin's sake, use a contraceptive charm. Miss Granger will do no one any good if she is waddling around, eight months pregnant, during a war."

"Oh bloody hell," Hermione growled. "We're not imbeciles."

"You could have fooled me," Snape countered. "You, Miss Granger, knowingly bound yourself to Draco Malfoy using viniculum - a nearly impossible binding spell - and are using its powers to lie to Lord Voldemort. And you, Mister Malfoy, knowingly bound yourself to the best friend of Harry Potter - your enemy, who was clearly powerful enough to survive an attack from the Dark Lord. You are both apparently clinically insane - at the very least - and thus, definitely imbeciles.

"There is one chance in a trillion that this ridiculous plan could work," Snape scoffed. "You've gotten lucky so far, but you can't continue to count solely on luck. At some point in the very near future it would do you both some good to begin to use your brains.

"I must be going now," he announced. "I will be here late in the afternoon tomorrow due to more scheduling problems. I expect you to be ready for me. I have left a book on the countertop and I think it would be wise for the lot of you to have it read by the time I come back."

Hermione glared at the Professor's back as she followed a few feet behind him back into the house, watching him disappear behind the closet door. She stomped her foot once he was gone, and felt only slightly childish after doing it.

"Bloody hell," she grumbled again. "I told you that we should have just done it last night. Now I'm going to lose my virginity just so that the Dark Lord will believe I'm in love with Draco Malfoy - not just because I want to."

"I'm sorry," Draco apologized, surprising her with his sincerity.

"We should just do it now," she said, stripping his borrowed t-shirt off before he could stop her.

"Granger," he chastised, taking her hands to stop her from taking off any more clothing. "I told you that I don't want to do it this way."

"And Snape just told us to just screw already and get it over with," she said, fighting against his grip.

"Let's at least wait until tonight," he tried to compromise. We'll take that bloody large tome on the table outside and read it in the sun. I'll make us some sandwiches. We'll have a relaxing day."

"Or we could just get it over with," she countered.

"Is that all it's going to be to you?" he asked, surprised to find that he was a little bit hurt. "You really want to just get it over with? Well, then, let's just do it now, Granger." He dropped her hands and had her shorts slid down to her ankles a moment later. He reached one hand around her back after that, unfastening her bra in record time as he aggressively - but still carefully - maneuvered her up against the wall.

"Draco," she whispered, looking confused and a bit scared. She shivered involuntarily when his warm hands slid to her sides. "That's not what I meant."

"I don't care why or when we do it," he said, looking into her eyes as he refastened her lacey black bra, "but I want you to understand that you will never be the kind of girl that I 'just get it over with' with, Granger."

"Ok," she squeaked. "I'm sorry."

"I'm going to be the best boyfriend on this goddamn earth," he informed her. "Muggle and wizarding world alike. I may not be the nicest person you've ever met, but Merlin help me if I'm not stubborn and willing to try this. You'd better get used to it."

She smiled cautiously, slipping a hand onto the back of his neck.

"Now," he said, "I'm going to make us some lunch. You grab a few towels and that damn book and I'll meet you outside."

!)(!*)(*%)($*%)($*)($*!)(*)(*!)(*)~(*)(!*$)!(*!

They sat outside taking turns reading and being read to until the sun went down. Hermione found herself getting caught up in listening to his voice instead of paying attention to what he was saying, but all of the important information had been heard and understood and was stored away carefully between the two of them.

Draco insisted that they make dinner together instead of simply conjuring something. Draco let the garlic bread burn in the oven and had a hard time remembering to stir the alfredo sauce. Hermione did her part by overcooking the fettuccini noodles a little bit, but they sat down at the table together with a somewhat-delicious, homemade meal.

"This was a good idea," she said, through a bite of dark brown garlic bread. Draco had conjured a tablecloth and a few candle sticks and was now enjoying watching the flames light up her face in the dim light. He was sure that they looked quite comical sitting at this nicely set table in their current attire. Draco was only wearing a pair of swim trunks and Hermione had covered up her bikini with one of his dres shirts which was only buttoned in a few places.

It was so alarmingly quiet on the island sometimes, but the silence had never been awkward until this particular dinner. The pair chewed in silence, too caught up in their own thoughts, and not willing to share any of those thoughts out loud.

"You know, we did forget to make desert," Hermione commented as she twirled her last noodle around her fork.

"I thought it was implied that I was having you as desert," Draco shot back quickly, winking at her and enjoying the range of expressions that played across her face.

"How about ice cream?" she suggested, side stepping his comment. He magicked away their empty plates and replaced them with a bowel of vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate sauce and whipped cream. "How did you know?" she asked, reaching out for it greedily and taking a large bite.

"You told me once," he said, "that this was your favorite way to eat ice cream."

"And you remembered?"

"I remember a lot," he assured her. She scooped a more reasonable portion onto the spoon and aimed it in his direction. He let her feed him the bite, licking some remaining chocolate syrup that didn't quite make it into his mouth. The next spoonful ended up being far messier - presumably on purpose - around the outside of his mouth. She giggled proudly. He grabbed a napkin to clean it up, but she placed her hand on his arm.

"I'll get it," she said, sitting the bowl down and moving to his lap. Her boldness shocked him as she licked the chocolate off from his lips and nipping at his bottom lip and kissing him for a few seconds.

"Have I told you, yet, that you're amazing at that?" he asked, gazing at her.

"Every time that I do it," she assured him, leaning to kiss his jaw.

"Your ice cream is melting," he said, shivering a little bit.

"I don't want it anymore." She moved her attention to his earlobe.

"And what do you want?" he asked.

"You're a smart boy," she whispered, "I'm pretty sure you can figure it out." She gasped when he gathered her up a moment later, standing up placing her carefully on the floor.

"But what if I wanted some more?" he asked, holding her face with one hand as he slid the other up under her shirt to caress her back.

"Then you can finish it off all by yourself," she shrugged, slipping away from him and walking slowly towards the bedroom, glancing playfully over her shoulder when she reached the doorway. He was behind her a heartbeat later, spinning her around and flattening her against the door as he kissed her thoroughly. Her mouth was slightly warmer than his and it added just one more sensation to the already mind blowing kiss.

The bikini that she was wearing was mostly strings, and bleach white. He had had a hard time not getting entirely caught up in her body while he listened to her read earlier and he didn't plan on enjoying the unnecessary clothing much now, either. Her hands were everywhere on his chest and back, and though it was clear - as always - that she was just going on instinct, it worked in her favor, as usual. He bent his knees and lifted her up easily, feeling her legs tighten around his waist as he held her back and bum. It was a move that he had used with so many other girls, but it was different with Hermione. He had never held onto any of them so tightly. She made a sound that was something between a sigh and a moan as she twisted her fingers into his hair and kissed him harder.

He guided them to the bed - untying her top as he moved - and she held him tightly, moving to kiss his neck before he lowered her down onto the mattress. He followed her as she scooted back, halfway covering her now naked chest, and laying her head down on one of the pillows. He saw a flash of worry in her eyes as he settled himself between her legs, but it disappeared a moment later when she leaned up to kiss him lightly.

She brought her hand back up to his hair for a moment before untwining her fingers and proceeding to trace them slowly and lightly down his neck and across his stomach to the waistband of his swim trunks, keeping her eyes locked on his the entire time. He propped himself up on one elbow and traced the fingers of his other hand along her side and to the strings on her hip. She untied the strings at the front of his shorts as he pulled one of her bows apart before switching arms and undoing the other one as well. He helped her slide his shorts off but he left her bikini on for the moment, leaving it up to her to officially remove the last piece of clothing.

She wiggled a bit when he centered his weight on top of her again, feeling the unfamiliar presence of his erection against her thigh. He saw the worry return again for a moment and brushed his lips against hers before moving to her neck to distract her. He kissed and licked his way around her collarbone, giving her breasts their fair share of attention, as well. He glanced up at her every now and then and couldn't help but smirk as her shyness melted away and was replaced with quiet moaning.

When he felt her hips press up against his, he kissed his way back up to her mouth and moved his hand down to draw patterns on her hip, tracing back and forth along the top of the bikini.

"Mmm, it feels so good," she murmured against his mouth, breathing heavily.

"It's supposed to," he assured her, smirking.

"Draco, I've never…" she trailed off, biting her lip for a moment as his fingers traced a particularly sensitive spot near her hipbone.

"I know that you're a virgin, 'Mione," he reminded her.

"No," she shook her head. "I mean, well, yes. But I've never… no one's ever…"

"Touched you?" he supplied. She nodded, averting her eyes from his. "It's nothing to be shy about," he assured her. "It's all the more… alluring to know that I'm the first one who's ever gotten to hear you make all of these delicious noises."

"I can't help it," she said. He was sure she was blushing now. She still wouldn't meet his gaze.

"They're amazing," he said, reaching up to gently turn her face back towards his. "You're obviously not doing anything wrong," he pointed out, glancing down between them and then back up at Hermione's face which was most certainly flushed now. "You have to decide, though, if you want me to go any further. If you say no, I won't. We can keep kissing like this or we can stop completely. It's all up to you, Granger."

"What kind of a question is that?" she asked, perplexed. "You're honestly asking me if I want you to stop making my entire body tingle? I feel like I'll fall apart if you stop," she whispered.

"Is that a good thing?"

"A very good thing," she nodded, biting her lip.

"But you're still worried."

"A little bit," she admitted.

"You don't need to be," he assured her, rubbing his nose against hers. "I won't do anything that you don't want me to."

"That's not it," she shook her head, and laughing just a little. "I'm scared because… it's just so strange. I've never felt like this before."

"This is nothing," he promised. "We haven't even gotten to the fun part yet."

"I can't imagine it feeling much better than this," she said, her breath hitching at the end when he traced a swirl around her hip. He was enjoying every second of this just as much as she was. He knew that he was good at pleasing women - the girls he slept with never left unsatisfied - but he had never been with a girl who had, literally, never done anything more than kiss a boy. She was so much more sensitive than anyone he had ever been with before.

She reached down to pull her bikini bottom off, lifting her hips up slightly before relaxing back down again and flipping the white fabric off of the bed. A moment later, her small hand was on his hip and she took her turn at torturing him for a moment. She leaned up to kiss him briefly before she slid her hand down the rest of the way and wrapped it around him.

It was at that moment that Draco had begin concentrating very hard on not losing control. Her slender, inexperienced fingers seemed to know exactly what to do, but he forced his mind away from all of the sensations and focused instead on returning the favor. Her entire body froze a moment later.

"Oh," she whispered, her voice airy and uncontrolled. "Holy shit."

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"Hermione?" Draco asked, cautiously. "Are you ok?"

"There is not a word," she said, pausing to take a deep, shaky breath, "to describe how wonderful I am right now." She was sprawled out below him, hair a mess, chest rising and falling unevenly, and eyes fluttering between wide open and lightly closed. "Merlin," she breathed.

He chuckled and rolled them over carefully so that she was on top of him, allowing him to run his fingers along her back.

"Ohmygod," she said, twitching a little bit. "Holy shit."

"You keep saying that," he commented, grinning. She settled down against him, wiggling a little bit to get comfortable and somehow awakening parts of his body that he had just spent nearly thirty minutes satisfying. He tickled her back again as payback.

"How is it that no one ever told me how wonderful that is?" she asked.

"Your girlfriends never talked about it?" he asked.

"Oh, they did," she said, shifting herself to the side a little bit so that she was only halfway draped across him, tracing the tip of her finger around his stomach. "But they never said it felt anything like that."

"It's never felt anything like that before," he said, sincerely.

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not," he assured her. "I heard once that there are sometimes two people that just work together perfectly, but I thought that they were lying. I mean, it's always felt good, and there were some experiences that were better than others, but I can't even compare any of them to you."

"Well, I have nothing to compare it to," she said, "but I'm pretty sure that that was better than it would have been with anyone else."

"Did it hurt?" he asked, suddenly made aware, again, of the fact that she had never had sex before.

"For a little bit," she nodded. "But you were so sweet and… good. I mean, like, really good." She sighed happily. "I don't know how people ever leave their bedrooms. I would want to feel like this all of the time."

"We'll eventually need food," he said, "and males aren't able to do it as many times in a row as females are."

"I'll just eat you if I get hungry," she said, turning her head to nip playfully at his shoulder. "And I do feel a bit bad about that last part."

"You feel bad about it how?"

"I mean…" she searched around for the proper words. "I feel bad that I got to have..umm… three."

He laughed so loudly that it startled her.

"What's so funny?" she asked, a little offended.

"There's no sense in feeling bad about it," he assured her, trying to cut the laughter from his voice. "It's just how our bodies are made, I guess. I can assure you, though, that I do not feel slighted at all. My 'one' was beyond fantastic."

"Oh," she said. "Ok. Well, I was going to ask if we could do it again to, you know, even out the score a little bit."

"You're not sore?"

"I can't feel anything but tingles," she said. "Everywhere. But you did just say that men can't do it as-"

"Oh, I can do it again," he said, flipping her back over and letting her feel just how capable he was. "You took care of that a moment ago when you were pressing yourself all up against me."

"Oh," she said, biting her lip innocently.

"Oh, indeed," he said, maneuvering his head around to nuzzle against her neck. "So what do you say, Granger? Are you up for round two?"

"Merlin yes," she breathed, grinning widely.

He brought his head back up and couldn't help but grin right back at her before leaning down to devour her once more.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N

It's been far too long again, but there was really no helping it. I've worked five 12hr shifts in the past ten days (on top of going to school three of those days) so I've felt a bit like I was in hell. This chapter is not very long at all, and I apologize, but it advances the plot a lot. I'm still not really feeling this story, which is frustrating because it all but wrote itself in the earlier chapters. I'll try to get on top of writing a new chapter soon-ish, but no promises.

I would love - and probably need - a good amount of feedback for this chapter so enjoy it and leave me lots of loves to start this new week off right ;)

Chapter Fifteen

"Your blatant disobedience to every single order that I give you is unfathomable," Severus Snape drawled from the doorway to their bedroom.

It took Hermione a moment to grasp what was happening. Why was Snape standing in their doorway again? He wasn't supposed to be here until the afternoon. She groaned and rubbed her eyes, gathering blankets around herself before sitting up.

"You're early," she grumbled.

"Incorrect," Snape sneered. "You, Miss Granger, have overslept. My time here is dwindling. Wake Mister Malfoy and meet me in the living room." He shut the door behind himself then and Hermione fell back against the pillows, turning onto her side to curl herself around the deliciously warm, naked boy who was laying next to her.

"He really needs to stop appearing in our bedroom," she commented, kissing the back of Draco's neck. "It's a little bit creepy."

"What are you on about?" Draco mumbled sleepily.

"It's nearly four," she said. "Snape's in our living room."

"Shit," he sighed. "Don't want to get up."

"I feel like we just fell asleep," she agreed. Then, though, she realized that she had definitely seen the sunrise before they finally fell asleep that morning. She wrapped one arm around Draco's torso and sighed happily.

"You should definitely not do that right now," he warned.

"I'm just holding you."

"Right," he scoffed. "It's already difficult enough in the mornings without you running your hands all over me, Granger." He rolled over to face her, pulling her flush against him and burying his face against her neck. He grinned as he added, "unless you're interested in helping me out."

"You're insatiable," she commented, grinning too.

"Oh, as if you aren't," he rolled his eyes. "'Oh, just one more time, Draco. Please!'" he said, mocking her playfully. He pulled away from her to look in her eyes, only to find that something was not quite right.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, looking worried.

"Your eyes are -" he cut himself off. "Are my eyes?"

"What in Merlin's name is this?" Hermione asked. "One of your eyes is… brown."

"One of yours is blue," he said. "We need to talk to Snape." He threw off the covers and hurried to find clothes.

"Holy shit," Hermione said, watching him. "Your markings are different, too."

"Huh?" he said. He glanced down and did a double take as he tried to make sense of the sparse amount of black lines twisting across his torso. Yesterday the markings had been so dense on his torso that there was more marked skin than normal skin, but today the mark was thinner and more elegant, spacing itself out lazily across his body.

"Mine's different, too," she said, walking over to him. Her marks had reacted similarly - thinning out and becoming far less busy and chaotic than they had become. The lines seemed to slip lazily around her stomach and hips now, curling entirely down one leg and arm and halfway down the others. They stood transfixed for several long moments, caught up in the thin, elegant lines all over their bodies. The marks had begun to look so cramped, dark and almost angry, but now they seemed to glide.

"It's because we…" Hermione trailed off.

"Yeah," Draco nodded, tracing one of the lines on her arm before focusing on her eyes again. "My eye color quite suits you," he said, smirking.

"You're lucky you got my eye color instead of my hair," she pointed out.

"You've got a streak of my hair color, though," he said, reaching out to finger a streak of platinum blonde in the midst of her brown curls.

"Oh," she said, noticing the light brown streak through his bangs then. "It's as if we're meshing into each other."

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Snape was relieved to see that he would not have to reiterate his words from the previous day. Though the two teenagers still looked entirely like themselves in height and facial features, the difference in their marks was certainly obvious and the distinct changes in their eyes and hair were more than enough to confirm that the deed had, indeed, been done.

"There will be a meeting tonight that you are to attend," he informed them as they stepped into the living room. "The Dark Lord was informed of some very… devastating advances that the light side has been making recently and has decided that the time has come to make our first move. You will both be returning to Hogwarts tomorrow morning if he is pleased with the amount of progress that you have made."

"But we've only been here a few days," Hermione protested. "And, besides, we're supposed to be lost or kidnapped or something, aren't we?"

"It will all look believable, I assure you," Snape drawled. "I will leave it to him to go into detail about the circumstances tonight, but I am sure that you do not misunderstand me, Miss Granger, when I emphasize the importance of the advances that Mister Potter and Mister Weasley have made in these few short days."

Hermione bit her tongue at this. Harry and Ron had found a horcrux and someone had informed the Dark Lord.

"How are we to explain our appearance?" Draco spoke up. "Will we use concealment charms?"

"There are no charms to conceal the effects of vininculum," Snape responded, condescendingly. "As I said before, the Dark Lord will reveal the details tonight. Your clothing for tonight is on the table. I will return at eight p.m. to retrieve you. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione nodded.

Severus retreated into the closet and was gone a moment later.

"It's going to be something terrible," Hermione spoke softly. "He's sending us back to Hogwarts to start the war which means we're going to be asked to do something terrible."

"It's going to be alright," Draco assured her.

"But it's not, is it?" she asked him. "And you already know what it is that we'll have to do, don't you? It's been the plan the entire time, right? You were to bind yourself to one of us, build up your powers, and then start the war by breaking down my side's strongest defenses, right?"

"Hermione," he said, taking a step towards her.

"Just tell me what it is," she said, dodging his advance. He locked his eyes onto hers, silently pleading with her for understanding. "Draco."

"There's a cabinet," he said, "in the Room of Requirements. It will allow the Death Eaters to enter Hogwarts once I activate it."

"Ok," she replied. She drew in a shaky breath, still holding his gaze. "But there's more, isn't there?" He shifted his eyes from hers, confirming her suspicions and increasing her heart rate. "You have to tell me now, Malfoy. I have to be braced to hear what he'll ask of us tonight."

"He won't ask it of you," he assured her, shaking his head. "He's asked it of me."

"It doesn't matter who he's asked," she said. "You know just as well as I do that last night we finished binding every facet of our bodies and souls together. I'm going to have to live with this just as much as you are."

"It's Dumbledore," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I've been ordered to kill him, when the time comes." His words hung heavily in the air. He stared at the wood flooring, tracing its lines as he felt her eyes bore into him while she processed this new information.

A moment later he heard her footsteps as she walked down the hallway. He flinched when she slammed the bedroom door shut.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Dinner at Malfoy Manor turned out to be something akin to torture. There was a much smaller gathering of Death Eaters this time, but Hermione found herself just as stressed an anxious as she had been on the night that she was Marked. Once they had arrived at the Manor she realized how foolish she had been during the day. It took a large amount of effort to push back the emotions that she was experiencing and she chided herself for not simply talking it through with Draco instead of ignoring him as she had all day.

She had acted like a child and she was not proud of it. He had left her alone, though, staying out of her way as she walked silently - angrily - through the house to get ready. She had pulled him aside before they entered the dinning room where Voldemort was waiting to kiss him lightly on the lips and whisper a genuine apology, but that did little to lessen the conflict in her mind.

As soon as they entered the room, all attention turned to them. The dress that Snape had left for her was short, black, and was not made up of much fabric at all. The transformation of her markings was apparent immediately and the Dark Lord was positively beaming - vindictively - at the sight of her.

"Ah, my children," he said, beckoning them over with his disgusting voice. "I can see that you have been very productive since we last met. We'll save the show for later, though, for our delicious dinner will be served shortly. Come sit, sit!"

There were two empty seats to his right. Hermione stepped ahead to take the one closest to him, ignoring the way that Draco's hand tightened around hers before she sat.

"So it seems that Snape was correct in his reports," Voldemort continued, taking a modest spoonful of the mashed potatoes that had been placed in front of him. "Which means that we can now discuss our strategies which, of course, depend heavily on the two of you."

"Of course," Hermione agreed, forcing the corners of her mouth to turn up in a devilish smile to match the Dark Lord's.

"Obviously our first move will be to hit one of the strongest places in the wizarding community."

"Which is…" Hermione trailed off, pretending to be thinking.

"Hogwarts," Voldemort offered. Hermione's smile widened. "I'm glad you're pleased, Miss Granger, because this is the first true test of your allegiance."

"I would do anything for you, My Lord," she said, ignoring the way her stomach churned as she reached out confidently and placed her hand on his own.

"Well, I hadn't been planning on asking you to do it," he said, sounding thoughtful. "But now that you mention it, I see how it could work so much better if it was you."

"If it was me that did what, My Lord?" she asked. Suddenly the room was far too hot. She fought hard against the urge to flee and fought harder to keep her fluttering mind silent in case Voldemort decided to enter her thoughts.

"I'd only planned on testing you to see if you'd interfere as Draco killed Hogwarts precious Headmaster," Voldemort answered. "But who better to start the war than Hermione Granger herself? It's the perfect twist. I can't believe I never thought of it before. You two will turn up at Hogwarts doors, bruised and battered, begging for them to take you in again. And then you'll turn everything upside down and start the war, all with one little murder."

"It sounds perfect," she said, managing a bite of the potatoes after grinning darkly at the man who was ruining her life.

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The stress from dinner increased consistently the longer that it went on. By the time everyone was finished with desert - and further discussion of the strategy - Hermione felt like she was going to be sick. She had eaten just enough to prove that she wasn't uncomfortable - though she certainly was - but it had been a few bites too many, it seemed, and it kept threatening to evacuate her stomach.

She was glad when the room was magically cleared of tables and she was allowed to excuse herself to go to the bathroom. Draco tried to follow her, but she stopped him with a convincing smile and kiss on the cheek. By the time she had located the bathroom, her stomach had settled. It was the Dark Lord, of course, who had made her feel so terrible. And now she had to pull herself together and waltz right back into that room to prove to him that she was powerful enough and brave enough to kill one of the most amazing wizards she knew.

Her vision clouded over but she refused to cry as she washed her hands in the sink. She smoothed down her dress, looking at herself in the mirror with distaste. She looked nothing like herself right now: barely clothed, high heels, straightened hair, and an ungodly amount of eye makeup. She looked as trashy, used, and whored out as she felt. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gave herself one last look, and walked confidently back into the dinning room to Draco's side.

"It is time for a demonstration of their training," Snape announced, dryly, standing at the front of the room. He beckoned them to join him as he continued. "We've been training for a few short days, but that was all that they needed, it seemed."

Hermione and Draco reached him and waited for further instructions.

"It will be just as we practiced," he said, speaking only to them this time. "But you will not heal yourselves this time. Do enough damage to make it look convincing. You will be deposited at the front gates of Hogwarts if the Dark Lord is pleased with your demonstration. You know what to do from there." He met Hermione's eyes at this and his expression flashed - for one single, brave moment - and conveyed his sorrow for her, thoroughly shocking her. But the moment was soon gone. Snape returned to sit in one of the chairs that had been left behind.

Hermione took a deep breath, still working hard to hold her entire façade together. She turned to look at Draco, fixing an evil grin on her lips before pulling him down by his tie for a steamy kiss only to shove him back roughly as she drew out her wand.

"On the count of three," she said, pointing her wand squarely at his chest.

He nodded, pulling his own wand out, and blew her a sarcastic kiss.

"Let the games begin," he agreed.

A/N

Ok, so this one isn't very long either. It is eventful, though. The next chapter will probably be longer, and I probably could have started it in this chapter, but I'd much rather split them up.

On a completely different note, though, while I was trying to write this chapter, I decided to get out one of the other ideas bumbling around my head. It helped a lot to write a bit of the other story I've been thinking about, and it ended up not being too terrible. I'm posting the first chapter of that story, as well, so check it out if you'd like (: It's Draco/Hermione again - of course :D - but entirely different from this plotline. Hopefully you'll enjoy it, too (:

Reviews would be great!


	17. Chapter 17

A/N

Here you go, have another chapter! And it wasn't even like ten days this time! We had a huge snow storm and I kind of got a vacation from everything. It was awesome :D So enjoy this chapter and go check out my other story, Love Me Dead. I'll have a new chapter for it later tonight, also (:

Review, review, review, my pretties!

Chapter Seventeen

The walk from Hogwart's gate to it's large, wooden doors was not a pleasant one. Hermione was missing a few large chunks of flesh and the two were already bruised black and blue by the time they reached the door. It was Filch who greeted them - though the word 'greeted' is somewhat deceiving, since it implies a kind of happy meeting - and led them directly to the infirmary.

Madame Pomfrey flitted around obnoxiously and Hermione wished several times that she could just heal herself and be done with it. It certainly would have avoided the awkward silence that followed when Madame Pomfrey found the Dark Mark on Hermione's back. The old witch froze up for a moment when she saw it, looking from the Mark to Hermione's pained eyes a few times before she set to work healing the younger witch again.

It was nearly one in the morning when Madame Pomfrey was finally finished. When she left their bedsides she drew the curtain tightly. There were two other students in the infirmary that night, but they had been moved to the far side of the room. Hermione turned on her side to face Draco, her expression distant and worn. He met her eyes and held up a finger, motioning for her to wait while he muttered a wandless silencing spell.

"Dumbledore will be here in the morning, I'm sure," Draco said. "She probably won't let us out of here for another twenty four hours, at least."

"Which is silly, since anything internal that she didn't heal will be fine by morning," Hermione said. "I don't know why I was so excited to come back here. I must have forgotten what it was like when I left."

"It's always been some place safe for you," he rationalized. "It's been a safe place for all of us."

"And we're going to ruin that."

"Only temporarily," he said. "Once the school is attacked, everything will happen very quickly. With Dumbledore gone, the Dark Lord will find Harry as quickly as possible."

"Of course," Hermione nodded. "Gods, I don't want to leave this hospital bed. It would be so much easier to just lay here for the rest of my life."

"But much less interesting."

"At least I wouldn't have to kill our Headmaster," she said, angrily. She wasn't sure just who the anger was aimed at, though. It wasn't Draco's fault that Voldemort had asked her to do it. Perhaps it was her fault for being such a fantastic actor. If she'd failed at convincing Voldemort that she was another of his loyal cronies, she certainly wouldn't be in this situation. She wouldn't be in any situation at all, though, if that were the case. She would be dead.

"I'm so sorry about all of this," Draco spoke up, breaking through her thoughts.

"You're going to give me that stupid speech again, aren't you?" she asked. "The one where you apologize for 'making' me bind myself to you and whatnot. I'll save you the effort. It's going to be worth it when we win. Ultimately, it will be worth it. It's just a little… scary right now."

"We can talk it through right now if you want," he offered. "Though there's really not much to this plan. As soon as we get out of this hospital wing I'll work on repairing the cabinet in the Room of Requirements. When I finish with that, I'll contact my father, he'll contact… You-Know-Who, and then someone will contact us with the signal. Then you come in and… yeah."

"Yeah," she nodded. "I don't know if I can face him tomorrow. He'll know, you know. Somehow he'll know what I've agreed to do."

"He'll understand," Draco assured her. "That's what I've been telling myself this whole time."

"I was so tired when we got here, but I don't know if I'll be able to sleep now," she sighed. "I miss the beach house."

"I miss the bed," he agreed. "Maybe if we just close our eyes we'll be able to sleep."

"I highly doubt that," she rolled her eyes. "I feel like someone's injected caffeine into my veins."

"Just try it," he insisted. She sighed, loudly, but then let her eyelids flutter close. She heard him readjusting in his bed, but kept her eyes shut. A moment later, though, she felt her blanket lift up. She looked up to see Draco sliding into bed with her. She moved herself against the wall, making room for his significantly longer legs and larger frame as he curled her into his arms.

"Clever," she said, wrapping her arms around him. "We'll get in trouble in the morning, you know."

"Granger," he said, "you've got the bloody Dark Mark on your back. Do you really think you could be in any more trouble than you already are?"

"That's a good point," she conceded, laying her head down. "I'm almost as bad as you, now, you know. You'll have to do something pretty terrible to keep up with me at this rate."

"I don't know," he responded, "I kind of figured we'd both be retiring our bad-boy-statuses after the war, eh?"

"I will if you will," she joked, tilting her head up to kiss him. "I'll see you in the morning?"

"Always," he smiled, kissing her forehead.

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Though she did see Draco in the morning, she did not get a chance to see Dumbledore.

"What do you mean he's not here?" Hermione asked Snape that morning.

"He's disappeared," Snape answered. "Yesterday morning, in fact."

"Is it because of me?" she whispered.

"Hardly," Snape dismissed. "It seems that Mister Malfoy has rubbed off on you more than we anticipated, Miss Granger. I feel that I should remind you that the world is not, in fact revolving around you. No matter how large a role you will play in this upcoming battle, there are still other crucial players."

"I'm aware of that," she glared.

"Madame Pomfrey will be discharging the two of you from her care this afternoon, even though I have assured her that you were fully healed hours ago," Snape went on.

"How are we supposed to answer the questions?" Draco spoke up. Clarifying a moment later by adding, "from the other students."

"You don't remember a single thing," Snape replied. "You found yourselves at the gates of Hogwarts, bleeding and battered. Your Marks were discovered in the hospital wing but you have no recollection of getting them. You will be escorted to all meals and classes by one of our faculty and will remain in a secured, joint dorm room during any free time you find yourselves with."

"But then how can I-" Draco asked.

"Your room will be consistently monitored by a faculty member when you are inside of it," Snape cut him off. "We are all signing up for shifts. Though you two are clearly considered to be in danger, you are also viewed as dangerous. Your Dark Marks are proof enough of that, whether you 'remember' receiving them or not.

"Professor Flitwick will arrive in the afternoon to escort you to your dormitories," Snape continued. "I will be guarding your rooms for the second shift of tonight and I will signal you when I arrive so that you may slip off to repair the cabinet, Mister Malfoy.

"Now," he finished, "have I left anything to be explained?"

"No, sir," Draco answered, shaking his head. Hermione shook her head as well.

"Good," Snape nodded, standing up from the chair he had pulled over between their beds. He lifted the silencing charm he had placed around them and walked away without a further word.

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When Professor Flitwick arrived early in the evening, Hermione realized that they had not received a single visitor besides Snape that entire day. She remembered, though, that even if Ron and Harry were back from their escapades that Ron currently hated her and that Harry would have to take Ron's side for the time being.

After Madame Pomfrey examined them one last time, they dressed separately and then followed the professor out of the infirmary and to their dormitory. It was nothing impressive - a small common room joining two separate bedrooms - and paled in comparison to their previous residence. It felt like home, though, so Hermione appreciated it. Professor Flitwick entered the common room with them and settled into one of the chairs after pulling a book off of the shelf - making it very clear that his presence was required and unrelenting.


End file.
